


Home

by Devodog



Category: AU - Fandom, Mystrade - Fandom, Romance - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Some angst, a chapter or two of PWP, a sort of HEA, one or two scenes made the rating E, some smut, white poufy bunny fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 36,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devodog/pseuds/Devodog
Summary: Mycroft is now the King of England.  He has promised to bring his brother, William, out of exile. However, there are conditions.  Sir John of Watt, is a knight that believes he no longer has a purpose due to his injury sustained in battle. The King doesn't do anything without a purpose.  How do these two play into his plans?





	1. The Players

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going through some minor editing. (I have a beta now, alexisriversong. Thank you.) Cleaning up mistakes and such. If you've read it already, you aren't missing anything new. Perhaps a word change or two; added phrase. Nothing that will dramatically change the original.
> 
> You can also find it on Wattpad. I up date as fast as I can, but sometimes the boys won't cooperate. It usually doesn't go more than a couple of weeks between updates. Also, there is some smut, but it is a lot. There is tension, innuendos and the like. What little 'naughty' bits there are, are explicit, hence the rating.
> 
> ***

King Mycroft sat in his private chambers with his personal adviser, Lord Gregory. He was staring out the window, watching the men-at-arms in the practice yard. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips.

"What will I do with him, Gregory?"

"Sire?"

"Don't play coy with me." the king said with irritation in his voice.

Mycroft."said Gregory softly. "He is your brother. It will all be well. He agreed to your terms. What could go wrong?"

"Ah,Gregory." sighed Mycroft. "Everything. He always finds away around things."

"Sire,"continued Gregory despite the raised eyebrow from Mycroft. "You have the most broad thinking court of any in the realms."  
"I know. I just worry that someone will take mortal offense and challenge him to a duel. You and I both know that he can not wield a sword. He offends others so easily."

Lord Gregory walks up to the king and kneels at his feet. He places one hand on his knee and takes Mycroft's hand in his. "Peace. All will be well, my love." he says softly as he places a kiss in the king's palm.

*****

Prince William stood at the window, gazing the night sky. His fiddle hanging at his side. He always found solace in the stars. They were the one constant in his life. No matter where he was, the stars were always there. They gave him peace when nothing else could.

With a sigh, he started to play a soulful melody. In a fortnight he would be back at Whitehall. He had been in exile since he was a small lad. His father sent him away when he realized his youngest son was never going to be a "proper prince". He couldn't fight. He offended all that he met. Witchcraft was a constant murmurer when he was around. 

When his father died and his elder brother took the throne, his exile was over. His brother wanted him home. Why, he couldn't fathom. William and Mycroft never saw eye to eye. It wasn't just the seven year age gap. Mycroft had always bullied William. Called him stupid. Unfeeling. Useless. It was not his fault it frightened people because he could deduce their secrets with in moment of meeting them. He had been accused numerous times of witchcraft. It wasn't that. His mind just processed everything it saw with in the blink of his eyes. His old nurse, Hudson, called it a gift from God. William called it a curse.

That is why when the message from his brother arrived it was such a shock. Mycroft didn't do anything without a reason. He was the king. William grudgingly had to agree that he was a good one. The reports he received about his home, stated the people admired their king. They felt he was fair and just. He ruled with a firm hand, but was not cruel. Again, this surprised William. He had a difficult time putting the this man and the one that bullied him in his youth as the same one. Perhaps age had mellowed him.

William accepted the terms that were set forth by the king. He didn't like them of course, and was already plotting a way around them. Even the man all thought had no heart, wanted a real home.

*****

Sir John just wanted it to all be over. Ever since that bastard ran him through the shoulder, he hasn't been able to leave his manor. A knight that can't fight or defend his king isn't worth his title. 

It doesn't help that his father constantly reminds him that he is worthless and a disgrace to the family name. He is always going on about how he wishes that it was John that died in the child bed instead of his wife. It doesn't seem to matter to him that it was John's skill with a sword and his knowledge of healing that he gained the king's favor and because of that he is able to provide the food and shelter that he and his sister enjoy. 

John always wondered why the old man favored his elder sister. Perhaps it was the fact that he never married and produced an heir. In fact, he didn't even have a bastard child that could be claimed and given the honour of carrying on the family name. This isn't to say he hadn't bedded his share of women. He just couldn't understand the tradition of marrying just to have a child. Call him a fool with womanish ways. John wanted a love match.


	2. "You may return to Whitehall under these conditions"

Mycroft admired John. He was a fierce warrior when needed, but the knight preferred to play the nursemaid. The way the men responded to his quiet patience was amazing. The strongest of the troops could wake up screaming from some night terror and be able to go back to sleep peacefully with just a soft word and touch from Sir John. You would think most would call this man, womanish and coddling, take offensive at his offered ministerings. This simply wasn't the case. The king had observed first hand, on several occasions, men seeking Sir John. out. 

Of course John didn't recognize this. He focused on the battle, the sword and shield. Men weren't supposed to be comforting. They were supposed to be warriors. Defend their king, country, and family. Showing softness was considered a weakness. Sir John tried everything to conceal his supposed softness. This was one of the things that his father used against him.

These dual roles were what caught Mycroft's attention. It surprised him that John could continue to keep his good humour despite the heartache he dealt with while living at Baker Manor. His father was a right bastard. He had served under the previous king. Mycroft's father was a harsh and unforgiving man. Those who served him, were just the same. John had every right to throw the old man out, but it was his soft heart that prevented it. There were other knights with similar stories, but it was Johns that intrigued him.

*****

It had been over two months since John had retired to his manor. The king had tried to persuade him to stay at court and recoup there. He knew that John's sister, Lady Henrietta, acted as mistress of Baker Manor and was more than capable of running things. He also knew that while John's physical wounds would heal there, his mental ones would not.

Mycroft could not let his favorite knight wallow in self pity. He knew that John felt he no longer had a purpose . That hecould no longer be of service, but that simply wasn't true. He had the perfect task for him.

CONDITION ONE

There was a soft tap at the door of John's solar. He ignored it and continued to stare at the empty fire place. This is what Henrietta expected and just let herself in. The sight of her brother broke her heart. John was slouched down in his chair. He had several weeks of growth on his face and his clothes were unkempt. She was moderately surprised that he didn't have flies buzzing around him. It wasn't his slovenliness that bothered her. It was the emptiness she saw in his eyes. She knew he didn't sleep. On the rare occasions that he did retire, the servants always said he would wake up screaming. 

Henrietta was afraid he might do himself some harm. It wasn't unheard of for knights mind's to snap from battles or injuries. She just couldn't bare it if this happened to her brother. She might be the eldest, but she had always leaned on John for strength, just like he did to her. Only he would never admit it. That is why she was happy that he received this summons from King Mycroft.

"John." Henrietta said quietly. 

There was no reply.

"John." she said again with more force as she walked around to face him. 

He still didn't acknowledge her presence, but she could tell he was listening by the slight raise of his head. 

"John. You received a summons from King Mycroft." she tried to hand the parchment to him, but her refused to take it from her outstretched hand. Knowing how stubborn her brother was, she broke the seal herself and read it aloud. "Sir John Watson, you are here by commanded to present your person to court on the first of September."

"John, that's less that a week away. Luckily we are only a couple of days ride away. You must make haste."

For the first time John spoke, "I will not be going to court."

Henrietta gasped. "John, you must go. You cannot ignore a royal command.!"

"Henrietta, I can and I will. I can no longer serve the king. This blasted wound saw to that. I will not embarrass myself in front of the court. I would rather be a criminal, that shamed."

"You only call me Henrietta when you are upset. I understand that you can no longer fight in battles. But the king would not have summoned you unless he had a reason."

"What reason could there be, Harry?" That put a smile on the maidens face. "A knight that cannot defend king or country is worthless." shouted John.

"Oh, John." Harry said, shaking her head. "You have many other talents. That is why you caught the king's eye. It wasn't for your talent with the sword." John glared at her for this. "Come now, we both know that isn't your best talent." she smirked. "I will be just fine. Father hasn't been causing any problems of late. Our Master-of-Arms, Sir Michael is more that capable of defending us if the need should ever arise. Besides, it will give me more time to get to know my new chamber maid, Clara."

John allowed Harry to pull him from the chair. The siblings just stood there for a moment, holding hands. Suddenly they burst into a fit of giggles and fell into each other for a comforting hug. Harry was the first to pull away. "Ach. John. You stink. I will have the servants prepare you a bath."

John raised an arm and took a sniff. He jerked his head away with tears in his eyes. "You're right. I have been neglecting my cleanliness. A bath sounds wonderful. Thank you, Harry."

"While you bath, I will start having your things prepared for your trip. You shall leave on the morrow."

John just sighed and shook his head. It wasn't worth it to argue. Once Harry got started, it took an act of God to stop her. That is one of the many things that he loved about his sister. Her strength and determination. He wished that he could have those same traits.


	3. The Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king asks John to be his brothers mentor.

The journey to court was uneventful. On the first of September, Sir John Watson stood before his king in all the finery befitting his station. However, there was one thing missing. 

"Where is your sword, Sir Knight?" asked King Mycroft.

"We both know that I can no longer wield one, so why should I bring shame upon myself by carrying it?" answered John somewhat rudely. He didn't care. Better to be insolent than embarrassed. Or even worse, pitied. John knew that he held the kings favor, or at least he did at one time. He would rather be disgraced than pitied. Any man would. 

Mycroft could see all these thoughts running thorough the knights mind. He truly didn't realize what talents he had. He honestly believed he no longer had value and was hoping the king would punish him for his impertinence. Suddenly, Mycroft stood up, descended the dais and swept past John. "Walk with me." he commanded as he moved past. John hastily turned and caught up with his king.

The men left the castle and headed for the garden maze. It wasn't until they were deep in the maze, that the king finally spoke. "What do you know of my brother?" 

"Just rumors mostly. The previous king exiled him because of..." here John paused. Mycroft stopped walking, waiting for John to continue.

John cleared his throat and mumbled, "witchcraft." This caused the king to arch his eyebrow at him. He hastily added, "I said they were rumors, my Lord. The only truth that I know is that he that he has not been seen court since in was a lad of about 10."

"Hmmm." was all the king said as he resumed walking. After a few minutes of silence the king resumed talking. "Some of the stories are true. He was exiled when he was 12, actually. My brother has a unique - gift. He would call it a curse. See John, his mind is in constant motion. Where most men can quiet their thoughts when needed, he cannot. He has the ability to deduce a person in a matter of moments. This is why people cry witchcraft."

"But Sire, surely if that had been explained to the court..." John started, but was cut off. "You have to remember John, this was over 15 years ago. My father and his court were not so open minded. It wasn't just the rapid thoughts though. William would never conform to the rules. He saw no point to it since he would never be king. This and some other events is what led my father to send him away."

"I see."

"Do you really, John?"

"I think so. While your father was a harsh man, he did have feelings for his son. He did what he had to in order to protect him. Now that the majority of those undesirables have been dealt with, so to speak, he can come home in relative safety." he replied.

"You understand much, Sir John. I told you, you have other talents that are useful to the crown." 

John looked down felt a slight blush warm his cheeks. He was unused to such praise. "Thank you, Sire, but that does not tell me why you have sent for me."

By this time the men had arrived to the center of the maze. The king motioned to a bench under the shade of a maple wood. "Sit, please." Both sat. "My brother has been away from court for 15 years. During this time he was supposed to be learning the duties of his station. As I said before, he doesn't see the point. So - he has been allowed to be his own person. An indulgence of of my father. Trying to make up for sending him away, I suppose. " Mycroft states this last bit almost to himself. "Any way, this means he has no courtly manners whatsoever. John, I would like you to be a mentor to my brother. Help guide him in the social niceties that are necessary for his survival. You are not so much older that he would see you as a threat. You also know your way around people." with this statement, Mycroft gave John a piercing stare that said more than words could. He nodded, to let his king know that he understood the message. "Good. I would also like for you to inform me of his daily activities." With this one, John's eyebrow's shot up and his mouth parted slightly, like he was about to say something. Mycroft went on, "Nothing intimate, just his daily goings on."

"Sire, I am not a spy! Daily activities can be observed by anyone. You don't need me for that." exclaimed John indignantly.

The King just smirked. "Just mentorship then?"

John stood up and paced a few feet away then turned back. "That is all? Act as a guide to court? Nothing more?"

"Nothing more, John. You will be required to have your sleeping chambers as part of his apartment. Separate from his, of course. He only needs someone close by." Mycroft stated to John's unasked, but apparent question.

"I accept, my Lord." John replies with a slight bow.

"Wonderful." Mycroft cried, slapping his hands on his knees as he stood up. "You will meet him tonight at supper. Now let's take the short cut out of here and get back up to the castle. "


	4. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Knight John, sees his prince for the first time.

John was late for dinner. His things had be taken to his chambers when he first arrived. Someone neglected to tell him where those were. After meeting with the king, he assumed they were already at the prince's apartments. He was hesitant to go there without the formal introduction, but he needed to dress for dinner. Luckily, the prince was not there. 

John strode to the head table where the royal members sat. As he approached, his eyes remained on the youngest member while thoughts raced through his mind. 'The prince was not what I expected. In truth, I was not sure what to expect, but it wasn't what I'm presented with. I thought William would resemble the King. Average stature. Perhaps a bit thick through the middle and a stern disposition. What I'm seeing was akin to a marble statue that could be found in a ladies private garden'.

' Prince William looked nothing like his brother. He has the palest skin, he must never go near the sun. He towered over most men and those cheek bones. They looked like they could cut your hand while trying to caress them. Those lips looked so soft. My fingers itched to trace the cupids bow. His eyes were the most glorious shade of green. I could get lost in those eyes. To top off this beauty was an unruly mop of the blackest curls. How I longed to run my hands through it as I kissed those exquisite lips. 

John blinked a couple of times, 'Bloody hell!"'he thinks. 'Where did that come from? I have never had those kind thoughts about a man. I must have been neglecting my needs for to long. When was the last time I had myself a maid? Bloody hell again. It was before I was injured. No wonder my mind has wandered down the wrong path. I'm sure I can find myself a comely wench for and evening of entertainment.'

The prince watched the knight as he walked to the table. He knew the moment John looked at him. There was a slight stutter in his step. It could be that he was trying to hide his reaction to him or it could be something else. William smiled to himself. He knew he should stand, but the image of this man standing so still and and proud before him, held him frozen to his chair. This was a true knight.

There was something about his eyes that held him captive. At first William thought they were grey, but with closer inspection he discovered they were a deep blue. Something you might find at the bottom of the ocean. He has wheat color hair that was cut customarily short. Older than himself, but not by much. Maybe his brothers age? William had to mentally shake his head. This is just an ordinary man. A bit shorter in stature than others, but nothing that should be causing him to loose focus. It took a kick under the table from his brother to pull him from his trance and make him rise. The king remained seated during the introductions. His sharp eyes did not miss any of the previous exchanges. Nor did he miss any of the glances the two men shared.

The prince gave John a slow appraisal. Starting and the top of his head, to the bottom of his feet and back again. There was a small pause in the middle that John did not notice, but his brother did. When William was looking again into John's eyes he stated, "So you are the man my brother chose to spy on me." John's eyes flickered briefly to the king. " I am here only in the capacity as a mentor. Your brother requested that I help you adjust back to courtly life. I don't spy for anyone. Not even the king." stated in a level voice.

William was surprised to learn that. Knights did not usually defy the their king, especially in front of him and his court. "Hmmm. You were mortally wounded in the last great battle, but somehow managed to over come those injuries. However, they left you unable to carry a sword or shield. You've been licking your wounds in self pity since you returned; allowing your brother to run your household. It took an order from the king to pull you from the pit of misery. You still believe that you have no purpose - but are here - to appease your king." state William from out of nowhere.

John just stood there, his mouth hanging slightly open during this speech. "That's amazing. Your brother had to have told you that."

"I assure you he did not. I avoid speaking to my brother when ever possible." Mycroft made a soft hissing sound at this comment.

"Bloody amazing."

"You think so?" the prince asked with a spark of hope in his voice.

"Of course. Don't most men?"

"No.

"What do they usually say." asks John.

"Witchcraft" answers the prince softly, almost under his breath, as he answers staring the knight in the eyes. Suddenly he turns to his brother, "If I am done with this meeting, may I please take your leave. I find I am over tired after my long trip." King Mycroft nods, "Goodnight, brother." William takes one last look at John, turns and leaves the dinning hall without another word. "That went well, I think." said John taking his seat. The king replied, "Quite."

During the rest of the meal, the dark haired serving girl kept flirting with John. He knew who he would be spending his evening with. She was just the one to help him get rid of those strange thoughts about the Prince.


	5. A Quiet Evening In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregory and Mycroft enjoy some alone time.

Gregory and Mycroft were sitting side by side, staring into the fire. It was a rare thing for them to have a quiet evening alone. "Dinner seemed to go well." Gregory said.

"Yes it did. Better than I had hoped."

"I told you. You had nothing to worry about." Gregory replied as he reached a hand towards his lover. Mycorft grabbed it and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Yes, you did. It wasn't so much the introduction I was worried about, it's the days to follow. I know John has a calm disposition, but he will need the patience of a saint to deal with my brother."

"Perhaps. They both struggled to keep their eyes on other things. It almost seemed they were taken with each other." Gregory commented as he played with Mycrofts fingers.

"Good observation, my love. You're getting better. But did you observe there was someone who couldn't keep their eyes off you during dinner?"

"Yes, I did. I struggled with the same issue. I wondered if that person was going to be available for some entertainment this evening?"

"I think they might be available. What sort of entertainment did you have in mind?" Mycroft asked slyly.

"Let us retire for the evening, and I will show you."whispered Gregory pulling the other to his feet.

The two men walked toward the bed. Gregory stopped and wrapped his hand around Mycroft's neck and pulled his lips down to his own. Mycroft's arms snaked around Gregorys waist and up his back to grip his shoulders. This was the sign Gregory was waiting for to deepen the kiss. He traced the seam of Mycroft's lips, until the younger man opened up with a soft moan. He didn't waste any time inserting his tongue, searching and finding the others. Gregory pulled Mycroft's tongue into his mouth and began to suck and lick it,like he would do to another part of him. This brought a more guttural groan from Mycroft.

Gregory slowly pulled away from the inciting kiss. He steped out of the kings embrace and orders"Drop your robes and get on the bed. I want you on your knees, waiting." Mycroft does as he is told. His delicate hands untie the belt of his bed robe. He shrugs out of it, letting it pool to the floor around his feet. He doesn't even notice the cold air, because of the steaming gaze from his lover. Mycroft silently crawls to the center of the bed, looking over his should at his lover, giving him a small smile. He raises to his knees and lowers his head, waiting. "What shall it be tonight?t "Gregory asks the man on the bed. "Whatever my lord wants" is the soft reply. Gregory lets out a soft growl. "What ever I want---hmmm.? There are so many things I want." He crawls to Mycroft and runs his finger up the younger mans spine. His hand tangles in the dark auburn locks. Suddenly, he tugs Mycrofts head back-exposing his throat. A loud hiss escapes his lips. Mycroft feels a hot, wet heat moving slowly up his neck. Gregorys hot breath whispers in his ear. "What I want is to be inside you. I want to hear you scream my name as I make you cum over and over again, until you have grown hoarse. I want my mouth wrapped around your prick. Suckling you deep in my throat until you spend your seed." The images this caused Mycroft to groan loudly. His hands rubbing up and down his thighs. His prick weeping at the prospect.

Gregory continued to place hot, open mouthed kisses along Mycrofts shoulder and chest, circling the man until his aching cock was lined up with Mycrofts mouth. "Suck me." he demanded. Mycrofts head bent forward to lick the wet tip. He circled the head,his tongue dipping between the foreskin and gland. Gregory grabbed Mycrofts hair, making a fist in the soft tresses. He pushed on his head, making Mycroft take all of his shaft into the hot cavern of his mouth. Gregory let out a gasp as Mycroft slowly drew back. His cheeks hollowed until he was at the tip and just as agonizingly slow, pushed his way back down. Gregory moaned and pulled him up for an open mouth kiss. Their tongues dueling for dominance. It wasn't a long battle. Gregory won the round, nipping Mycrofts bottom lip as he pulled back.

Gregory pushed the king into the pillows behind him. He reached for the jeweled container that was sitting on the bed sidetable and handed it to Mycroft. "Put it on." Mycroft opened the jar and scooped out a small amount of the white cream and rubbed it generously over Gregory's shaft. Causing a growl to rumble from the older mans chest. He then placed the jar in Gregory's waiting hand. Gregory placed the jar back on the table and looked down at his lover. "Ready?' Mycroft was so aroused that he couldn't speak,so he just nodded. Gregory lined himself up to Mycrofts hole and slowly pushed in. He waited as long as he could for Mycroft to release his pent up breath and then began to slowly thrust.

Over and over Gregory pounded into the younger man, hitting his gland with every thrust. All Mycroft could do was keen and gasp at the sensations flowing over him. He grabbed Gregorys back, his arse, shoulders, anything to keep himself grounded. He screamed Gregory's name as his orgasm tore threw him. Gregory slowed his thrusts as Mycroft writhed beneath him. Moments later he threw his head back and bellowed as he released his seed deep inside his lover.

Panting, he collapsed to his side, careful not to crush his partner. He drew Mycroft close and whispered in his ear,"I got one thing I wanted tonight."

 

"On the morrow you shall receive the other. I promise." Mycroft murmured, placing a kiss on Gregory's lips. Gregory smiled. He knew a king never broke a promise.


	6. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince and knight get to know each other.

John woke with the sun. He gave a stretch and got out of bed. He couldn't remember the last time he woke feeling this good. He remembered the events of the past night. That comely maid, Irene, provided a most enjoyable evening of entertainment. He would have to remember to look for her again. "I guess I just needed a good tumble, or three," he chuckled as he walked into the common room of the apartment.

He was surprised to see the prince already up and seated by the fire. He had never know nobility to be up before the sun. "Good morning, my prince. Have you been awake long?"

"I never went to sleep." William replied.

John hid his surprise by biting into an apple that was sitting on the table. "Did you enjoy the serving wenches attention?"William drolled.

John choked on his bite. "How did you...? Never mind." chuckled John. He had already heard enough rumors about the prince's skills, never mind the demonstration at dinner. He doesn't know how William does it, but John is already learning to live with it. There is no sense in trying to figure it out. It is who the prince is. It's John's job to try to blend that person with something that can be seen in court with out offending others. Or at least, keeping the offenses down to a minimum. 

"You aren't angry?" William asked in surprise.

"A bit, but it's so incredible what you can do."

William gave an almost smile. "I play the fiddle at odd times, including the middle of the night. I can go days with out speaking." John just looked at him curiously. "Since we will be sharing an apartment, you might as well know the worst of my habits." John smirked and broke into a laugh. "I believe we will get along just fine, my lord."

"Don not ever call me that again." William vehemently stated.

John was mildly taken back by that. "What would you have me call you then"

"Sherlock."

 

*****

The rest of the morning was spent with the two men trying to find a common ground. John discovered that Sherlock didn't indulge in sleep very often. He preferred Sherlock to William because, "Every bloody royal is called William."

While away, Sherlock studied astronomy, botany, and human anatomy. That explain his paleness, the man never left his rooms. If he wasn't careful, his activities could be construed as the magic he denys having a part of. One or maybe two of those activities could be considered scholarly, but all of them, on top of his observational skills? Well, he could get the stake.

None of this bothered John. He found all of it rather fascinating. One of his deepest secrets was he had wanted to be a physician. His father didn't approve of such a profession. If he was to be burdened with a sickly male child, he was damned sure that he would be a knight. If he was lucky, the child would be killed in battle.

John learned herb lore in secret from the local green witches. Harry knew this, but never said a word. That knowledge served John well. There were many times during battles when there was no one else to treat the wounded. John was able to save many of his fellow knight's lives.

"Tell me, Sherlock, what do you do with your anatomy studies?"

"I experiment on the dead to see what makes the living live. I want to know how the organs work. How is everything connected." The more Sherlock went on, the more appalled John thought he should become. He was a bit put off, but not as much as he should be. The church would be aghast. Defiling the dead? John couldn't bring himself to be offended. He saw to many men on the battle field die. What was left lying on the ground wasn't a man any longer. It was just a shell. The soul long gone to it's final judgement.

After a few minutes of talking, Sherlock realized he lost the attention of his audience. "Does this offend you, John?" he asked.

"Not really. I know I should be. The soul is what made them men. Death is the release of that. Without the soul, what's left is just a husk."

"That's very forward thinking. I'm a bit surprised to be honest. There is more to you than meets the eye, John Watson."

For some reason the compliment made John blush. He didn't want to look at the reason to closely. "So are you a physician, then?"

"God, no. I may study similar topics, but I can't stand people. Their minds are so small and slow. It drives me mad." Sherlock stated vehemently.

"I'm sorry if I bore you to much during my stay." John replied dryly.

"I don't mean you, John. You seem to understand me."

John gave a smile. The new friends spent the rest of the afternoon in conversation. Before either on of them realized it, it was time for the evening meal.


	7. Condition Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince ruins John's after dinner plans.

It was at this time John found out what the second condition was. "Will you be joining us for the evening meal, M'Lord?" Sherlock shot John a dirty look for that comment. "I have to. I don't like to eat. It slows my mind down. This is my brothers way to make sure I don't starve. He also wants to vex me by forcing me to be around people"

John had to stifle a giggle. He had already figured out that crowds made Sherlock anxious. He uses the excuse of stupidity but he as been sheltered so long that he just isn't used to people or how to act around them. "What do you wish me to call you when we are around others?"

"John, you know I don't care about propriety. However, you are supposed to make sure I follow protocol. So please use formal language when addressing me. Oh, don't ever use 'Sherlock' in public. That is just for us.

For some reason that comment gave John a warm feeling in his chest. He didn't want to examine the reason why, so he chose to ignore it instead.

"Will you be getting dressed" John asked. It was posed as a question, but it really was a reminder. This wasn't lost on Sherlock. "I suppose." Sherlock huffed as he went into his chambers.

It was only a matter of minutes till Sherlock came back out. He had put on a fresh plum colored tunic overlaid with a sleeveless black short robe. He even remembered to put on his crown. John was impressed. That simple gold circlet only just managed to tame those dark curls. 

"Shall we go, my prince?" 

Sherlock rolled eyes, put on a frown and strode past John to the dinning hall.

*****

As the pair approach the table, John quietly reminded Sherlock to mind his manners. That earned him a "look" from the younger man. The prince bowed to the king, "Brother." John subtly cleared his throat and tipped his heat towards Gregory. "Preceptor."

"Brother. John. I am very glad that you could join us." Mycroft said with a smile. Only Sherlock could hear the knowing undertone in his words. Sherlock didn't respond, he just took his seat next to the king.

"Your Majesty. Preceptor." John said with a bow towards both men. He sat next to a sulking Sherlock. It was obvious that he didn't want to be there. Mycroft ignored the attitude and asked, "So tell me brother, how was you day?" Sherlock refused to answer. He just glared at his brother. Letting out a long suffering sigh, the king turned his attention to the knight. "John, how did you fair against my brother and his charming personality? I do hope he wasn't to trying."

"Oh no, Sire. The prince is quite entertaining. He and I get along quite well. Don't you agree, Your Highness?" replied John directing the last comment to the prince. Sherlock rolled his eyes at John. "Yes. John and I do seem to share some interests"

The king just nodded and turned his attention back to his preceptor. Gregory raised his eyebrows at that comment and looked at his king. Mycroft subtly shook his head and whispered "later". Gregory understood and dropped the subject.

Irene was the serving wench again. She kept giving John looks and touched him as often as she could. A touch on his hand as she sat the tray down. A brush of a breast against a shoulder as she stood. John was flattered by the attention. He hadn't been completely sure that she would agree to another tumble. But now...he just might have to visit her later.

Prince William also noticed the attention John was receiving. He couldn't understand what John saw in her. It was so obvious that she was hoping to ensnare him. Normally William could care less what others did, but for some reason he couldn't let that happen to John.

When Irene bent over to refill their ale, she was brazen enough to whisper in Johns ear. Whatever it was caused John to smile and nod.

That was enough for prince. "Irene, I don't think you will be available tonight. Your husband has been waiting up for you these last few nights. It's costing him time in the fields. His crops are not flourishing as well as they should. You might be hungry this winter." Prince William spoke casually, but there was a firmness that could not be ignored. 

Irene hid her flaming red face and all but ran from the dinning hall. John turned an angry gaze to the prince. "What was that all about? I had plans with her." he hissed quietly. 

William just shrugged. "She was trying to use you John. I didn't think you like to be a father just yet." 

John continued to glare at the young man. "We will discuss this later." 

Despite being angry at the young man for ruining his plans, John noticed that Williams plate was untouched. "Are you going to eat? The venison is quite good." asked John. 

"I don't need to eat. I had an apple this morning." 

John almost spit out his mouthful of ale. "An apple? This morning? Sher, em Sire, you need more than that. Even a lowly knight such as myself knows that you have to eat to have strength for your body to function correctly. Eat something, please."

The Prince just stared at John, trying to deduce the motives for the request. Why the "please". It was almost as if he cared. After what seem like hours, William finally looked away and began to eat.

None of this went unnoticed. Mycroft glanced at his preceptor with a raised eyebrow. Gregory had a dumbfounded expression on his face. That caused the king to chuckle softly to himself. This was working better than he hoped.


	8. Condition Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nightmare.

John discovered condition three by accident a few weeks later. Sherlock was required to attend the general receiving. Mycroft wanted the people of the kingdom to know their prince, heir apparent. He also wanted Sherlock to know his people. Though, if you were to ask the prince, he would say it was to torture him. The king also knew that his brother needed stimulation of the mind. Solving some of the peoples problems would provide that.

John would not have known, if it hadn't been for the nightmare. It was during one of the rare nights when the prince actually slept in his bed. He wasn't sure what it was that woke him. Their rooms weren't that close. John sat up in his bed. The sound he heard wasn't something he hadn't heard in months. Before his return to Baker Hall. He waited a moment and it came again. John got up and went into the prince's room.

He found Sherlock thrashing around in his bed, emitting small moans and muttering incomprehensible words. Suddenly, he let out an ear-piercing scream and sat up gasping. John ran to the bed and pulled the young man into a comforting embrace. He had seen this before on the battlefield. Men reliving the horrors they've endured. He could only imagine what his prince was reliving.

Sherlock grabbed the older man around his waist and buried his face against his chest. John just continued to rock them slightly while murmuring"You're safe. It's safe now. I have you." After a few minutes the young man pulled away, wiping his eyes; regaining some of his usual detached demeanor. "Thank you, John. I'm sorry you had to witness that."

"There's no need to be sorry, Your Highness. What do you remember?"

Sherlock looked at John, trying to decide if he should say. Despite the calm and concerned expression he saw on the older man's face he opted not to tell. "Nothing. I don't remember anying."

John could tell that Sherlock was lying, but didn't push him. He just nodded. "Do these dreams happen often?"

"Not really. I haven't had one for many months. I'm not sure what may have brought this on."

This was so unlike Sherlock, that John knew that the dream had really troubled him. He thought he might be able to get him to talk about it indirectly. It was a trick he used to help others that were embarrassed and didn't want to appear weak in front of another man. "Perhaps it has something to do with the general receiving? I was surprised when you agreed to attend."

Sherlock grimaced. "I didn't agree. I am required to attend. This is another one of my brother's conditions. He knows I hate people. I think it's just another way for him to torment me."

This explained a lot. John had begun to realize that his prince did not like large gatherings. He almost never talked to anyone. He left the dinning hall as soon as he could. He never went outside if there were large groups of people about. Even though it was supposed to be required of his station, he never attended practice with the knights. "What is it about large gatherings that torment you so?"

This question surprised him. Not so much the question itself, but the choice of words John used. He had been asked why he hated people or groups, but not why they tormented him. John continued to surprise him. He knew the question was sincere. That he wasn't trying to gain favor. Sherlock almost told him the truth, but choose to fall on his usual answer. "People are stupid and annoying. It's even worse when they are together. The intelligence of the entire room goes down."

The answer hurt John. Was Sherlock including him in this appraisal? He thought he was starting to earn Sherlock's trust, but apparently not. The prince could see that his words had hurt, but he was afraid to tell the truth. Afraid of being hurt. Again.

It was at this point that both men fully realized that they were sitting on Sherlock's bed. Only a sheet covering Sherlock and John in his bed robe. John cleared his throat as he stood up, pulling his robe tighter around his body. His cheeks pinking. "If you are alright, Sire, I shall retire to my room." The prince replied with pink cheeks of his own, "It's Sherlock, not Sire." John smiled at that and left the room.

After John left, Sherlock couldn't go back to sleep. He got up, put on his bed robe and went over to stoke the fire. While he watched the flames wake up, he picked up his fiddle and began to play.

John removed his robe and crawled back into bed. He laid there listening to Sherlock play. He had heard him play before, but nothing so sad. As the melody flowed over him, he let his mind focus on Sherlock's nightmare. It didn't occur to John that he had held the prince in his arms. Nude. He was just offering comfort to a person hurting, like he had done on many occasions before. He knew the prince remembered the dream. Knew that John was trying to get him to talk. He just wished he knew what to do to earn the young man's trust.

*****

It was late when John drug himself to the common room to break his fast. He was a bit surprised to see Sherlock already dress for the receiving, He sat down at the table. "Good morning, Sherlock. Have you broken your fast?"

"I was waiting for you." Sherlock replied as he sat down next to John.

This shocked the older man. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"I will need, what were your words, "strength" to get through this torture today. That, and I wanted some company." Sherlock wouldn't meet John's eyes as he spoke. Instead , he busied himself with filling his plate.

John snorted at the torture comment, but was secretly pleased at the company remark. Perhaps the prince didn't lump him in with all the other 'people'.

"You slept late, John. I apologize for keeping you from your rest."

"There is no need to be sorry. It is I that should be asking for your pardon for being so late." was John's reply.

"We are even, then." Sherlock smiled. A true smile that reached his eyes and softened his features.

This was one of the first true smiles that John had seen from the young man. For some reason it gave him a warm feeling to know it was him that smile was bestowed upon.

It wasn't much later the two men were seated in the receiving room. Sherlock was seated to the king's right and the preceptor, Lord Gregory to his left. John sat a little behind and to the right of the prince. He was surprised to be given this honour but knew the king wanted him to be close to the prince.

What John didn't know was that Mycroft was aware of his brother's anxiety. He had told John to help mentor for protocol, but he also hoped that the knight's soothing nature would act as a calming influence for his brother. Despite what Sherlock thought, Mycroft does care deeply for his brother. He knows what life under their father did to him. He regrets the role he was forced to play and the torment it cost his brother. Everything he did was for a reason. Even at that young of an age, Mycroft had a plan. Sherlock wasn't the only one with a mind that could deduce.

It was obvious that Sherlock was uncomfortable being in the throne room. To those that didn't know him intimately, he looked bored and disinterested. Those that did know him, could tell by the stiff posture, the slight clenching of the hands, and the shallow breathing, that the prince would bolt if given the chance.

It hurt the king to see his brother this way. He knew it was for Sherlock's benefit to be here. His brother needed something to stimulate his mind or he would start to cause mischief. There was supposed to be some interesting problems being presented that were sure to intrigue the younger royal.

"How long must I endure this fiasco, brother?"

"Until the bitter end, brother dear."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and again scanned the room for escape routes. This did not go unnoticed. John leaned forward and placed a hand on the back of the princes' shoulder. "Peace, Sire" he whispered. "I am right here if you need anything." The touch as well as the whispered comment had an immediate effect on Sherlock. His breathing became regular, his shoulders relaxed, and he was able to calmly place his hands onto his lap.

John was unaware that his actions were being observed by the preceptor as well as the king. Gregory could only shake his head in amazement as he watched the knight work his form of magic over the prince. Mycroft's eyes softened for a brief moment as he watch the transformation of his brother. He smiled to himself. Things were going just as he had planned.

It was right after this that the Herald announced the first subject. Many of the people stared at Prince William. They all knew the rumors. Many were probably expecting him to have two heads and be clothed in black robes while holding a glowing staff. John found it mildly amusing to see their reactions. He also found himself annoyed when they realized that the handsome young man seated next to the king was the prince.

The afternoon was finally drawing to a close and John was silently thanking the gods that his prince had been able to keep things together. There were time during the proceedings when Sherlock would try to make a snarky comment or start to have a panic attack. All it took was a quiet word or gentle touch from John to refocus the young royal.

 

John noticed the king almost seemed distracted, like something was amiss.He couldn't put his finger on what gave him that impression. The glances he had been giving his brother during the proceeding made him wonder. He also notice Mycroft whispering more with his preceptor than what was common. John knew that Sherlock was aware of everything that was happening around him. He doubted that Sherlock would even know what this meant, being unaccustomed to courtly routines. It wasn't until the last subject of the day approached the dais that things got truly interesting


	9. The Last 'Subject"

The Herald announced the last subject for the day. It was the inn keeper of the Quacking Duck. It was the smaller of the three inns of the kingdom. Anderson slowly approached the dais and gave a shaky bow. His eyes kept darting to the Prince and. John fought to stifle the wave of anger that hit him. There was something about the small man's demeanor that irritated him. Perhaps it was the shifty eyes or the nervous disposition, but John immediately disliked the man. He looked at Sherlock to gauge his reaction. The young man sat up straighter, tension in his spine. He lowered his eyes to look down his nose at the inn keeper. Yep. The Prince didn't like him either.

For the first time today, the King turned to his brother, indicating he should handle this man's problem. Sherlock sighed, "Greetings Anderson. How can we be of service to thee?"

Anderson looked to the King for guidance. Mycroft kept a stony expression and even when so far as to turn to speak with the Preceptor. Sherlock smirked at that. He remembered Anderson from when he was a child. They were not good memories. The words 'Freak' and 'Witch' were spilled frequently from his mouth. The man was not happy that he had to deal with the younger royal. John kept a close eye on the Prince as the tension between the inn keeper and himself was tangible in the air.

Anderson bowed to the Prince. "Your Royal Highness." When he straightened, he looked at Sherlock to see a smug expression on his face. This caused Anderson to frown but he truly needed the help or he would have left then and there. He cleared his throat and started again, "Your Highness. I am in desperate need of your help. As you know I run the "Quacking Duck"., here he paused. The Prince continued to just stare down at the man with out any expression of recognition. He was purposely trying to make him uncomfortable. This made John smile.

Anderson drew a shaky breath and pressed on. "I believe my inn is haunted. There have been several strange things a happen. Things moving on their own. Doors slamming..."

"Sounds like a lads prank. Don't waste my time." interrupted the Prince. He tried to stand, but John let out a soft humm that the young man recognized as a 'have patience' sound. He had heard it several times during the receiving. Sherlock huffed but sat still. Anderson continued.

"It's not pranks, Highness. There also have been strange sounds and..." here Anderson paused long enough for the King to focus his attention on him. This made Anderson squirm. 

"Go on Anderson." said the Prince firmly.

"There have been some deaths, Highness. Not the usual kind. These are strange."

This got the Prince's attention. He sat up and focused more on what was being said. John noticed the difference. So did the King and Preceptor. This was exactly what Mycroft thought and secretly hoped would happen. "Strange how?" asked Sherlock

"Not a mark on 'em. But everyone of 'em had a look of terror on their face."

"How long has this been going on?" Sherlock questioned.

"A couple of months or so." 

"How many deaths?"

"Four. No five with the one from last night." answer Anderson.

"This is what make you think your inn is haunted?"

"Well of course. Some spirit found it's way to my inn and is obviously scarring 'em to death."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "What did you do with the body from last night?"

"Had the grave digger take 'em away. Don't know no of any family to tell." Anderson replied.

"Get back immediately and keep the body from being buried. Try to keep it as cool and dry as possible. Sir John and I will be on the morrow to see it and discuss your problem further." With that, the Prince stood up and walked past John. "Come,John. We have things to discuss." John looked toward the King and Preceptor. Mycroft just nodded. John ran to catch up with his Prince.

Anderson stood in his spot. Wondering at what just happened. Mycroft told him, "Do as he says. You may leave now." Anderson bows and backs away from the dais.

Mycroft stands and offers his had to Gregory. "Come, love. There is much I want to discus with you. He leaned towards the older man and whispered hotly in his ear, "and do with you. To you." When he drew back, he could see the blush forming in Gregory's cheeks, along with the love and lust in his eyes. 

"If there wasn't still and audience Sire, I would have you bent over your throne, robes thrown across your back. I would bury my hot, hard cock in your beautiful ass. I would fuck you hard and fast until you screamed my name loud enough to bring the guards in." Gregory countered in a whisper. The thought cause a slight flush up the King's neck. Gregory smirked. He knew that Mycroft loved it when he talked dirty, especially when least expected. "Let us retire, Sire". The two men hurriedly left the throne room for their apartment.

*****

That night the King and his Preceptor were absent from the dinning hall. The prince was not happy about that. "If I am required to be here, so does he." grumbled Sherlock. 

"He's the King." reminded John.

"Doesn't matter. He just wants more time to have sex with Greg."

"Your Highness!" 

"Don't acted so shocked, John. You know it's true. Those two have been a couple for years. Though at some point, Mycroft will have to break down and take a wife. The people are going to start to demand an heir. I wonder how that will work." smirked Sherlock.

John thought, it was one thing to know that his King preferred men and had take a male companion instead of a wife, but another to hear it out loud. Among others.

"John, the court know all about my brother and his Preceptor. Whether or not they approve is not important. However, most do. Mycroft has created a very forward thinking environment." John just stared at the man. "I will have hung if you ever tell him that." Sherlock said with a smile. It was the same smile that he gave John this morning. John returned it.

"I suppose since the King isn't here, we could retire early ourselves." John said.

"Really, John? What do have in mind?" asked Sherlock in his low baritone. 

John immediately turned bright red. "Highness." he hissed.

"I'm teasing you, John." he said in what John could sultry voice. "I know it has been a tiring day for us both. We do have to leave early to get to the "Quacking Duck". I want to see this 'look of terror' before the corpse begins to rot to much.

"Do you think..." John started to ask

"Not here." whispered the Prince

John got the hint and kept the rest of the conversation to neutral topics.


	10. The Night Before The Case

Back at the apartment, the men settle themselves before the fire and resumed the conversation about to morrows task The first thing John wanted - no needed- to know was why Sherlock had such a hatred for the inn keeper. No other subject upset him up during the receiving like Anderson had. There had been a few that set the Prince on edge, but not brought forth the reaction John saw.

When he asked Sherlock about it, all he would say is that they knew each other before he left and was very loyal to his father. "So you think this is all a ruse? A sort of prank for your benefit?" asked John.

"Anderson is not that smart. I think there really is something killing these men. I'm sure it's not a ghost. I need to see a fresh body with 'the look', the room, and gather more clues."

"You're not going to allow more people to die, just to get information? Are you?" John asked incredulously.

The thought had crossed Sherlock's mind. People didn't mean much to him. Ever since he met John, he began to see others differently. John acted like a conscience. Reminding him that he had to work with others. It wasn't just mentoring or protocol. It was reminding him of his humanity.

*****

The evening wore on and it was becoming evident that both men were getting tired. Finally, John stood up and announce that he would be retiring for the night. Sherlock didn't move from his spot on the couch. "Are you going to be retiring to your chambers soon? You hardly got any sleep last night." asked John

"I don't plan on sleeping this night. My mind is far to active going over this problem." Sherlock answered.

"You can't not sleep. How will you be able to focus on the clues and other tasks presented if your mind and body are not rested? You will be slow and unfocused."

"John, I assure you that my mind and....body will be just fine. This is a normal occurrence for me. I assure you."

"Forgive me, Highness, but I disagree. I have see what happens when you don't sleep. You are not as focused as you think you are." Sherlock just glared at John for the use of formality and the comment about his focus. John ignore it and continued on. "I have watch you today. Your body and mind are as taunt as a bowstring. I know of something that will help both relax enough to allow you rest."

"John, I have used herbs in the past to help quiet my mind. I promised Mycroft that I would refrain from using them while in the castle."

That didn't really surprise John. He knew of other knights that had tried different ways to make the nightmares of war go away. However, what he was going to propose to the young man was something that he discovered by accident. A very happy accident as it seemed to work on every person he had used it on.

"Highness, I have found that if the body is relaxed, then the mind will follow. I have used this technique on several other knights during combat situations. They have had similar problems with sleeping, night terrors,and over stimulation due to battle. If you would allow, I would like to do this for you." 

John used the formal address when he wanted Sherlock to know that it was of a more serious nature, related to his position, not person. The Prince was beginning to understand the difference and why John chose to address him as such. He had begun to admire the older knight for his calming presence and patience to deal with his unique personality. The younger man knew he was difficult to be around. That was one of the reasons he always kept to himself. 

Strangely, he found himself being drawn to John on a more personal level. He couldn't understand it. He had never had feeling like this before but he knew he wanted to explore them further. That's why he teased his knight during dinner. Why he was so bold in speaking about his brother. He wanted to confirm his suspicion that John may be hiding something from him as well. 

Sherlock was intrigued by the proposal. "By all means, Sir Knight. Let us see if thy treatment will be successful in putting me to sleep." John snickered at the formals speech. He was glad that Sherlock understood that this was between Prince and knight, not Sherlock and John.

"Alright, Highness. I want you to go to your chamber and disrobe. Please lie on your linens, face down. I will join you momentarily." 

The Prince felt a faint blush creep up his neck at the thought of what his knight was going to do that required him to be nude. He slept without garments so it wasn't really an issue, but there was so many wonderful possibilities. "Anything else you require, Sir Knight?"

John watch the flush on Sherlock's face and hoped he didn't have one as well. He considered the young man his friend and he didn't want to make him uncomfortable to the point he would ask him to leave. "Nothing else, Highness."


	11. The Lullaby

The sight that greeted John when he entered the Prince's chambers almost cause him to drop the oil he was carrying. Sherlock was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. John sent a thanks to the gods that Sherlock was facing away from the door.

He truly looked like he was Grecian statute come to life. The fire cast a soft golden glow over Sherlock's long limbs. John never thought of the male form as beautiful, but this was the only way to describe the vision before him. The surprisingly broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips. The gentle swell of firm, round globes. Perfect for grabbing a hold of. The long muscular legs. "Dear God," thought John. Even his toes are beautiful. The way the fire light play across his alabaster skin was hypnotic. It took everything John had to remember why he was being allowed to see this utter perfection.

Sherlock could sense the moment when John entered the room. He could hear his steps falter the instant he looked at him. He could feel John's heated gaze along his body. It should have made him uncomfortable to have another man see him so...vulnerable. When he was with John, he felt safe, protected even. The was no reason for it. No threat had been made upon his person. He just liked how John would keep him calm when he had to deal with others. He tolerated his moods. Not even old Nurse Hudson could do that.

It was finally the Prince that broke the spell that had fallen over the room. "I warn you now, Sir Knight, that if you plan on singing me a lullaby, I will have you drawn and quartered."

That comment was exactly what John needed to hear. He laughed out loud and walked to the bed. "Don't worry Highness. I have no intention of making anyone suffer through my croaking. My intention is to massage your muscles using an oil infused with certain herbs. These herbs will calm the mind and help your muscles relax. Perhaps you would be more comfortable if you had your braies on? "

"Why? You said disrobe. I don't sleep in my braies and your said you were going to put me sleep."

"I just thought you might be uncomfortable being so exposed."

Prince William turned his head to look at John, "I place myself into your hands, Sir Knight. Do with me what you will."

Those words sent a bolt of desire straight to John's cock. Here was the most beautiful being he had ever seen, and was being given permission to do anything he wanted. Again, John summoned his willpower to rein in his thoughts. He was here to help his Prince, heir to the throne, relax enough to sleep peacefully; not to have a tumble like a common whore. He just hoped that he could keep his thoughts together long enough to get through this and have his liege not see the hardness tenting his shirt.

*****

John poured some of the oil into his hands to warm it. He ran his hands over the Prince's shoulders and down his back. He wanted to give the oil's aroma a chance to work on the mind. He wasn't prepared for the sensations running up his hands and arms as he stroked the smooth skin. The knight meant to use a firm touch, just to spread the oil around, but he was touching a work of art. His hands caressed down and across the broad shoulders to the base of the spine. John wanted so desperately to stroke the firm ass. He could, and use the excuse of being thorough. He could stroke and kneed the flesh as much as he wanted. He would be able to run his fingers between the perfect cheeks. Stroke the ring of muscled hiding between. If he was feeling particularly bold, he would even slip a fingertip inside. Just to feel how tight and hot Sherlock was. But, John was a gentleman. I true knight in every sense of the word. He would not take advantage of this young man. He did however, indulge in a tiny caress on the slight up swell before stroking back up to Prince William's shoulders.

William had to bite his arm to keep from groaning out loud. The instant John put his hands on him, he was lost. He expected a firm, almost rough touch. Not the gentle, almost reverent caress. When John just brushed his ass - he bit his arm hard enough to leave marks.

Sir Knight John was able to get himself under control and continue to kneed the flesh under his hands with the firmness needed to remove the tension. Once the muscles became malleable, he indulged himself by running his fingers softly across Sherlock's shoulders and around his scapula. He watched the firelight and shadows play across his skin.

The Prince could not hold back his moan of pleasure. The hands of his knight could be considered sinful for what they were doing to his body. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders and back. Instead of just going away - it settled in his gut and groin. At least he would have images and now sensations that he could use to ease the ache in his cock. 

He had never been as hard as hew as right now. It was his knight. No man had ever put him in this state before. No woman ever could. Hard. Aching. Wanting. Needing. John was correct. He was able to relax his body and mind of the stress of the day. He just now had the pain of desire to deal with.

Prince William could take care of it himself. He knew his knight wasn't ready to assist in those matters and a servant wouldn't do. It had to be John or no one. His only consolation was that his knight was in the same condition.

Sherlock's skin was like silk over steel. John was used to the toughness of sun kissed flesh of other knights. Being allowed to touch this porcelain perfection was heaven. Not even the Ladies that he had been with had had skin this smooth and fine. John could spend all night just petting and stroking the muscular flesh before him.

He managed to tame his arousal after the initial shock seeing/touching his prince in all his bare glory. He kept it under control while working out the knots on Sherlock's back. He even managed to resist the temptation of caressing his firm ass. But it was all for naught when the man before him let out his throaty moan. 

The sound went straight to his prick. There was no way to disguise the bulge tenting his shirt. John knew the sound well. He, himself, made it during a satisfying bout of sex. He couldn't understand why he was so aroused knowing it was himself that caused Prince William to make that sound. He had never been attracted to men before - so what was it about the prince that did?

The knight decided to play dumb at the sound. He stopped what he was doing and asked if the prince was okay.

Sherlock managed to choke out a reply that he was fine, but he would not face his elder. "Sir Knight John. You have succeeded in your task. I am calm enough to rest this night. Thank you."

John didn't argue that he hadn't finished the job. He didn't work on his legs or feet. Perhaps it was better for them both if he did not push it. He didn't think his control could last any longer. "I am glad I was able to help, Highness. I will leave you to your rest."

"Sleep sweet, Sherlock." John whispered under his breath as he quietly left the room.

That simple sentence told Sherlock all he needed to know. His attraction for his gentle knight wasn't a lost cause. "And to you, John." he mouthed silently.


	12. The Quacking Duck, Part 1

The men were on the road just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. Neither one spoke of last night beyond the causal courtesies. It surprised to see Sherlock had chosen to ride instead of taking the carriage. For some reason he thought the younger man would not be comfortable on horseback, since he rarely left the castle or the surrounding gardens. The Prince had also instructed that they were to go alone. His reason being that John was more than capable of protecting him if necessary and he didn't want any unnecessary attention drawn to the presence. 

The King and Lord Gregory watched the two leave from their chamber window. "Do you think this is wise, Love?" asked Gregory. "If your brother is as half as clever as you, he'll see right through this ruse."

"My brother is almost as smart as I am. It's just age that gives me an advantage. He'll see through it, but he'll already be there and won't be able to do anything about it. This is meant to be a test of John's ability to calm my brother. If all goes as planned, this should be the push they need to be more involved with the kingdom and each other."

"Mycroft. I never took you for a match maker." the older man said pulling the King away from the window. Mycroft wrapped the shorter man in a loving embrace, resting his head on top of the others.

My brother has endured much. A lot by my own hand. He deserves to know happiness."

Gregory leaned back to capture his lovers lips. What he meant to be a brief, sweet kiss turned into a passionate show of wills. Both tried to show who loved the other more through heated kisses. Tongues battling for dominance, lips crushed under the others. Hands roaming, grabbing, trying to pull each other closer. 

Mycroft was the first to finally pull away. He grabbed his Preceptors hand and led them out of their chambers.

"Where are you leading me, Sire?"

"I recall the throne room being empty at this hour. No audience." Mycroft smirked.

Gregory caught on and started escorting his King. "I can't be making empty threats, now can I?"

*****

Sir John and Prince William rode up to the Quacking Duck just before noon. The Prince just tossed the reins to the stable lad without a second glance and strode into the inn. John handed his reins over more politely. He asked the lad to look after the animals. He mentioned they would be there at least one night, most likely two. If the horses were well tended, there would be an extra coin for him. The lad grinned, gave a low bow to the knight and took the horses to the stable.

John entered the building and immediately found Sherlock at the bar arguing with Anderson.

"What do you mean you don't have the body? I specifically said to keep it so I could examine it." the young man yelled.

"Highness, I'm sorry, but it wasn't proper to have a corpse just lying about. Bad for business. The smell and all." Anderson was sweating. It was obvious he was afraid of what the Prince would do to him.

"How am I supposed to solve your problem with out any body?"

"Can't you just conjure up the spirit or send it back?" Anderson snapped. He immediately covered his mouth with his hands realizing just disrespected the heir apparent to his face. 

Sherlock just stood there, his eyes slowly lowering into slits. His hands starting to curl into fists. Anderson tried to mumble some sort of apology while taking a frightened step back.

John placed his hand on the Prince's shoulder as he stepped between the two men. He could feel the young man trembling with anger. The knight could hear the soft inhale and exhale behind him as Sherlock tried to calm his anger. He was furious himself that his poor excuse of a man had dared to insult his friend.

"Inn Keeper." John growled with barely restrained rage. "I suggest you take your leave. Please send your wife to show us to our rooms. We will be dealing directly with her from now on. I will be dealing with you later."

Anderson gulped and bowed to the men. He yelled for his wife while heading into the kitchen. John turned to look at his friend. Sherlock was just standing stiff as a statue with and equally blank look upon his face. This concerned him. He had seen similar reactions with his comrades when their mind took leave. "Highness. Are you alright?" The man didn't respond. Johns reached out and put both hands on his shoulders and shook him slightly. "Sherlock." he whispered "Answer me."

Sherlock blinked and slowly focused in on John's face. "Sir John. I beg your indulgence. I need to retire to my room. I am finding myself fatigued from our journey." It was at that moment the inn keeper's wife hesitantly approached the men.

"Highness. Sir Knight. If you will follow me, I will show you to your room."

John frowned at the mention of one room. He wondered if Sherlock was alert enough to have heard that as well. He would bring it up with the Matron after he got the Prince settled.

The Matron led them up a sturdy flight of stairs to one of two doors. She opened one and ushered the men inside. It was obvious that this was meant for simple travelers, not high born ones. It was sparsely furnished with a single bed, small table, and the customary bowl and pitcher of water. "It's not much. Don't usually get fancy visitors..."

"It's fine, madam. Please wait outside. I will join you momentarily." John interrupted her ramblings. The Prince just stood by the small window looking at the people below going about their daily routines. Once the woman left, John walked up to stand next to the young man. They stood in silence for a few moments. The knight was the first to speak. "I need to speak with the Matron for a moment. Will you be alright?"

Sherlock smiled softly, grabbed his friends hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm fine. I just need sometime to refocus. Once you return, I'll be ready to start our investigation."

John nodded slowly. He knew something was amiss. Sherlock never admitted to being tired. He vowed to discuss this later and get to the bottom of what what troubling his friend.

Once the door was firmly closed behind him, he turned a stern face to the trembling woman in front of him. "Why can I not use the room across the hall? It is not proper for me to stay in the same room as our Prince."

"We only have the two rooms, M'Lord. The other is the haunted one. I don't think ye be wanting to risk that one?"

"John pinched his nose between his eyes and took a deep breath. "The Prince will be wishing to speak with you later about this 'haunted room' and the missing body. Your husband has shown his his insubordination and we will no longer require his attentions, so please make yourself available."

"Yes, M'Lord." The Matron gave a final curtsy and went back down the stairs. John entered the room to let the Prince know of the developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for you Dearies. Kill Anderson or just maim him?


	13. The Quacking Duck Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is completely out of character.

"No need to tell me. You weren't exactly quiet." Sherlock said dryly from his supine position on the bed.

"Well, it won't be the first time that I've slept on the floor."

"John. You will not sleep on this hard floor. The bed will accommodate us both." Sherlock stated calmly, coming to stand in front of the older man. 

John's breath hitched, "Highness, I don't think that's a wise idea. This floor isn't any harder than the ground. Plus, it's warmer."

Sherlock stepped closer. Using his deep baritone "I can assure you that your virtue will remain intact. So there is no need to sacrifice your back."

John had begun to feel anxious the closer his friend got. After last night, he wasn't sure what may happen between them; but when Sherlock made the comment about his 'virtue', he couldn't help but laugh. It was the least expected comment. He didn't think Sherlock had that kind of wit. In fact he had been expecting a more suggestive comment. He wasn't certain, but he almost felt disappointed that it wasn't.

Sherlock grinned. He wanted to put John off his mettle, wanted more evidence for his hypothesis. He observed the knight's quickened breath, the sudden tension in his frame. All pointed to a positive conclusion that John was thinking about him in a more than friendly manner. He didn't want to tip his hand to soon so he came up with something witty to ease John's mind.

Before anymore could be said there was a knock at the door. It caused both men to startle and burst into giggles. John went to open the door. There was Anderson carrying a large tray laden with food and drink.

"We did not request a luncheon." John stated coldly.

"I know, M'Lord, but I noted the time and thought you be hungry." the inn keeper mumbled.

John looked over at the Prince. He nodded and John allowed the food to be brought in. Anderson placed the tray on the small table. He left and immediately returned with two chairs. All the time he kept his eyes off the Prince and Knight. With a bow to the Prince, he left, closing the door behind him.

"So you think he poisoned it?" asked John.

"He doesn't have the courage. but we could have him come back and sample everything. It could be fun to watch him squirm."

They laughed about that while setting down before their lunch. "For being a sniveling bastard, he got something right. I'm famished." John commented.

"It's all about good business. Keep the guests happy. Create a story to bring the customers."

"What do you mean?"

"The haunted room? Deaths but no bodies? It's all a ruse. Create a mystery and the people will flock to see it for themselves. Fools." Sherlock replied with disdain.

"I thought you said he wasn't clever enough to invent something like this." John asked around his ale.

"He's not, but some one is. Most likely my brother." Noting the confused look on the older man, Sherlock explained. "My brother thinks I need something to occupy my mind, so he created this situation for us."

John's eyebrow rose at the 'us' comment. "Why do you think this puzzle was set by the King?"

"He was watching us leave from his chamber window. If he didn't have a vested interest, he would not have bothered."

"Interest in your well being? I would not have suspected the King of having a soft heart." chuckled the knight.

"Only with his Preceptor, my dear John. I am his heir apparent and a liability. It is in his best interest to keep tabs on me." Sherlock replied dryly. He wouldn't admit out loud that he knew or at least had a suspicion that his brother did care for him. At least a little bit. Otherwise, why bother with all this. Besides, it was aiding with keeping his mind stimulated. He had been working on a theory for a few weeks now. It was his new favorite topic, Sir John Watson. This little excursion is providing much needed evidence.

"So where do we go from here?" As an afterthought, John added, "Does Anderson know?"

"Of course not. He is to stupid to pull this off. Everything going on, he believes is real. That is why my brother seemed a bit put out because Anderson didn't show until the very last. He despises me so much he was loathed to ask for help."

Suddenly things start to make sense to John. The nightmares, the tension at the receiving, and the reaction today to Anderson's comment. Anderson was one of the trouble makers from his youth. A fairly large by the look of it. John vowed to keep the Prince from that sniveling bastard and when the time was right, he would make sure to give him his comeuppance.

"Just follow my lead, Sir John and we will play this little game my brother has set up for us. If you have finished your repast?"

"I have, but you have not. We shall leave when you have had more than a nibble of bread." John stated.

Sherlock frowned. He thought John hadn't noticed with all the talking they had been doing. Again, he underestimated his knight. To appease the man so they could get going, Sherlock placed a bit of meat on a piece of bread and stood up. "Happy?" he barked.

"Yes." smirked the knight following him from the room.

*****

 

John thought Sherlock would have wanted to investigate the room first, or at the very least look around the inn. As usual, he did neither. He wanted to visit the village. 'Get a feel for the people.' he said.

The knight kept a close eye on his friend to make sure he didn't become over anxious. Crowds could do that. That's why he was so surprised that the Prince wanted to go out. He also felt a bit uncomfortable in crowds himself. John was charged with acting as the Prince's personal body guard every time they were out in public. It was a known fact that Sir Knight John preferred not to wear a sword. It was only a few trusted friends and family members that knew that John struggled to wield the sword properly because of his shoulder. Most thought it was due to his perceived pacifist nature. John hated to wear the blasted thing because he was unsure of his ability, though the King and Prince seemed not to harbor the same insecurity.

Instead of being stressed, Sherlock seemed to be enjoying himself. The streets weren't as busy as the knight thought they may be. Apparently they had missed market day. The villagers seem to take an actual liking to the Prince. He wasn't trying to read them or be deliberately obtuse. It was completely opposite of everything he had said about people. John wanted to ask about this strange behavior, but he thought it better to address it in the privacy of their room.

It wasn't often royalty roamed around their streets. Most were about Sherlock's age so they didn't seem to harbor the discrimination of his unique talents. The older generation just turned away trying to avoid any confrontation.

The sun was starting to set when the pair turned back toward the inn. John knew Sherlock wouldn't share any of his thoughts about the game until they were alone. They stopped at the corner of the Quacking Duck, just inside the shadow.

"We should dine in the common room, Sir Knight. See if anything unusual happens."

"If that is your desire, Highness. Do you wish to refresh while I arrange for a table?"

"No, Sir John. Let us see what this fine establishment has to offer without anything special being arranged on our behalf." the Prince said a bit loudly, sending a wink to his flustered knight. He knew he was behaving out of character, but it was necessary to gather the much needed information about the game his brothers had set. Thank goodness John was able to pick up on the semi subtle clue.

John gave a slight bow accompanied by a hint of a smile, just a tiny turn of the lips. They stepped from the shadows and went inside the not yet busy inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all that have read this so far. I do the happy dance when I see the numbers go up. I would really love to know what y'all think. Drop me a line. I would love to chat.
> 
> Here's where I really do need some input. It's getting real close to where I have to decide to kill or maim a character. I'm sure you can guess which one. *wink wink* Please let me let me know what y'all would prefer. Kill or maim. Thanks for your time. Hugs and kisses to each and everyone of you. *smooch/squeeze*


	14. Dinner At The Quacking Duck

The men found a spot next to the fire. It was tucked back away from the casual observer but still afforded a clear view of the room. Anderson tried to serve them, ignoring the command from the morning, that he not approach the Prince. He slunk back to the bar, red faced from the tongue lashing the Knight had given him. Several of the other patrons heard what was being said and snickered as the shamed man went past them. It was his wife, the Matron who next dared to approach the table.

With a quick curtsy, her eyes down cast, "Highness. Sir Knight. Forgive my impudence, but wouldn't you be more comfortable in your room? I can have a special tray prepared for you and sent by two of my best serving wenches." With that last comment, she looked at the men with a look that insinuated that the servers would do more than just bring food and drink.

"No, Matron. The Prince prefers to dine among his people tonight. There is no need to make a special meal. What ever is on the menu is fine. We also won't need any additional attention other than what is required to serve our meal this eve. Thank you for your offer. However, two of your best ales would be greatly appreciated as soon as possible." John explained to the woman with a warm smile.

The Matron smiled appreciatively at his courtly manner. Most knights were coarse. Thinking themselves better than those around them. After the dressing down her husband had received, she feared the same treatment. "Aye, M'Lords. I'll bring it to you personally." She gave another curtsy and left to get their ale and meal.

"She is the brains behind this inn." The Prince commented after the Matron left.

"Are you just saying that because you loath Anderson?"

"No. She truly is the one who keeps this inn prosperous. She knows how to handle the guests and manage goods. Why she pus up with the fool of a husband is beyond me." 

Sherlock gave the Matron a smile as she brought back their ales. "Your meal will be up in a moment."

"Thank you, Matron. We look forward to your fine fare." Sherlock replied.

It was almost comical the same shocked expressions the woman and John both shared. The Matron flushed at the praise and hurried away from the table. Sherlock look at his knight, "What are you making that face for?"

"You're being kind. Why?"

"Why do I need a reason, Sir John. She is the matron of this establishment and a subject of the realm. All my subjects deserve to be treated kindly."

John just looked at the Prince incredulously. This was so far out of character for the man, he wondered if he had indulged in some form of herb or spice. The knight leaned close to the young man and whispered harshly, "Are you under the influence of something, Prince William?"

"Why do you ask, Sir Knight?" William replied smiling.

"You aren't acting like yourself. What did you take?"

"Just something to calm my nerves, John."

"You promised not to use anything."

"I promised not to indulge at the castle. As you can see, we are not at the castle, Sir John."

It was obvious that the nearest guests were trying to listen, but the two men managed to have their heated conversation in a whisper. "That explains everything. I am so angry with you. What you have taken is not safe." John wanted to storm off, but he couldn't leave the prince unattended. The Matron choose that moment to bring their food. Sherlock thanked her fro her attentiveness and actually started to eat. 

John sat a fumed. He didn't know what he should. do. He knew men that indulged with these kinds of plants and the kind of danger they could do to others and themselves. He wondered why the King didn't warn him about this. Another test? This is just another thing to discuss when they retire to their room tonight. Perhaps he should have taken the matron up on the offer of a wenches services.

The meal passed without further incident. Sherlock started to act more like himself. What ever he took seemed to be wearing off. John kept the conversation to inane topics. The longer they sat, the busier the common room became. It was apparent that the Quacking Duck was the place to provide the villages evening entertainment.

The two men were secluded, so they weren't disturbed. It was at the point when John was about to suggest they retire that a bit of excitement took place. A sudden gust of wind blew down the chimney causing the fire to almost gutter out, sending sparks flying.

There were several screams from the patrons. The Matron and Anderson rushed to the center of the room to assure everyone things were alright. That it was nothing to be worried about.

"It's the ghost. Someone's going to die tonight." screamed an old woman.

Anderson looked to the Prince and his knight when he heard the old woman's prophesy. They were the only two staying at the inn.

The Matron stood on a chair, banging on a large pot with a wooden spoon. Gradually the room quietened down. "Thank you. There will not be any one staying in the ghost's room. There will not be anybody dying at this inn tonight. Now, mind your business." The Matron gave a dirty look to her husband as she stormed past him to attend their royal guests. 

"Please be assured that you are perfectly safe at the Quacking Duck, M'Lords."

"We are not concerned, Matron. In fact, on the morrow you will no longer be plagued by ghosts." replied the Prince.

The matron just nodded. She had a knowing look in her eye. John stood up. "We have had enough excitement for the day. It is time to retire. Your Highness."

Sherlock glared at John but gave a smile to the Matron. She secretly wondered at the dynamic between the two. It was unheard of for an underling to give an order to a royal. The men made their way upstairs amid soft gasps from the patrons. They had not realized that their Prince had been dinning among them or that they were guests of the inn.

Some guests were observant enough to figure out that the Prince and his knight were sharing a room. They assumed it was for added protection from the spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearies. I am at the point where I need to know whether to kill or maim our fool. Please let me know which option you would prefer. Thank you to you all.


	15. After Dinner

Sherlock could tell John was upset by the stiff way he held himself. He stood in the middle of the room watching the older man quietly close and bolt the door.

"Why?"John asked, turning from the door.

Sherlock knew he was referring to the herbs. I needed something to get me through the torture of the villagers."

"I was with you. I could have intervened as necessary. That was why I was there. To help you. I was shock that you even wanted to go out." John yelled.

"I had to go out. Mycroft expects a report on the status of the village. He would know it came from any other source." The young man shot back.

John took a deep breath and quietly asked, "Was that another condition?"

"In a way. I need to get to know the 'people' he says. How, pray tell, Sir Knight, am I to do so without at least seeing them?"

"No need to be rude, William." John knew that would irritate the young man. He wanted him to be irritated, like he was. "I have seen what these kinds of plants can do to men. It changes them. Kills them. Literally kills them. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Why, Sir John? Just because I am your Prince?" Sherlock spat.

"No!" John yelled. "You are my friend and I don't have very many left to me."

"I don't have friends."

"You do now."

Both men glared at each other, panting slightly from the argument. Slowly they both relaxed and grinned at each other.

"My knight has spirit after all."

"Don't mistake my reluctance for confrontation for apathy." John said, eyes darkening.

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room shifted. The tension from the previous days innuendos, their arguments all came forward. John slowly stalked toward the taller man. "I will show you 'spirit'."

Sherlock stood transfixed on the smaller man's eyes. They had darkened to an almost black. His demeanor was of a lion stalking his prey. He was helpless to do anything but watch and wait.

John stopped inched from his prey. "Sherlock." he whispered hoarsely, giving the young man an opportunity to move. When he didn't, he ran his fingers along the side of Sherlock's face and across the full lips. He brought his other hand up to brush the dark curls off his forehead. They were softer than the knight thought they would be. He continued to run his fingers through his friend's hair, watching the pleasure run across his features. "So beautiful." John whispered while gently pulling the taller man's face to his, closing the gap, centimeter by centimeter. Still giving the other time to pull away if he wanted.

When it was obvious there would be no resistance, John captured the other man's lips in a soft kiss. Just a gentle pressure to let him know this was really happening. John continued to place feathery kisses along Sherlock's jaw, across his check and back to his lips. He brushed his mouth across his lips. Licking the bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. With a tiny whimper, the Prince allowed the knight entry. He swept his tongue along Sherlock's - causing him to groan low in his throat. Sherlock hesitantly joined the dance John was leading.

After a moment John pulled back to look at his Prince. Sherlock opened his eyes to gaze at the man who had kept him up at night.

"Spirited enough for you?" John whispered,stroking Sherlock's cheek with his free hand. The other wrapped around the taller man's waist, holding them close together.

Sherlock cheekily replied "That was more apathetic than spirit."

John's eyes took on a wicked glint. He grabbed the dark curls and pulled the Prince's head back, exposing a long creamy throat. "Apathetic?" he snarled

Sherlock closed his eyes, "Apathetic."

The knight growled. He ran his teeth down the long neck to the junction of his shoulder. There he bit hard enough to leave a mark and draw a loud gasp from the young man. He continued to nibble and suckle the spot until a dark purple bruise appeared. Once marked, John continued his assault, licking his way up to Sherlock's ear. He bit the lobe and sucked it into the hot cavern of his mouth. Sherlock whined and pulled his knight tighter to him, causing their erections to press together, soft groans issued from both. John slowly pulled away from his ear, releasing it with a soft pop. He whispered, "Need more expression?" Yes was the groaned reply. John hummed and brushed a hot open mouth kiss across his jaw to the open,waiting lips of the Prince.

He didn't hesitate to take the offered lips. This wasn't a soft, chaste kiss. This was a warrior taking what he wanted. A god accepting the offered sacrifice. John plundered Sherlock's mouth, exploring, claiming. His hands exploring the young man's back, hair, arse. Anything he could reach, he touched. Claiming it for his own. The other responded in kind. His arms finally settling around the older man's neck, his hands tangled in the blonde strands.

Finally John broke away. Sherlock gradually open his eyes. John gazed into the vast, blue depths that currently help an astonished expression.

"That was spirit, John."

John smirked, bringing his hands down to grab the hips of the Prince. He ground his his into the others, causing a sharp his from his Prince. "No. That. Is. Spirit." John punctuated each word with a roll of his hips. At the end, he quietly stepped back.

Sherlock stood and just stared at the older man. He hadn't expected him to kiss him like that. His heavy breathing, dilated pupils, and obvious arousal, indicated that he has, at least, a lustful feeling for him. John's reaction to his indulgence also indicated caring. His hypothesis was correct.

*****

John stared back. Unsure if he did something wrong. Sherlock continued to have a dazed expression. He couldn't help what happened. He had been feeling something for his friend for awhile. When he was challenged, he thought it a perfect opportunity to show the other what he meant to him.

To break the tension, John asked coyly, "So, will my virtue still be intact on the morrow?"

Sherlock shook off the fog that had settled over him and graced John with a smile. "A better question is mine safe this eve?"

"I can assure it is safe for as long as we are away from the castle."

"Then, as your Prince, I can guarantee you the same."

The men looked at each other with heated expressions. Taking the time to get their arousal under control. "Shall we go to bed then? It's been a long and tiring day and you have a the great reveal in the morning."

Sherlock nodded. He began to undress, removing his tights and tunic. John turned away to offer some privacy and to lessen the temptation of staring at what he felt and wanted more of. When he heard the bed covers rustling, he turn back around.

"Are you going to stand their all night or are you going to undress and and come to bed?" 

John had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't taken the opportunity to disrobe while his friend did. Now he had to do so while the other watched. He tried to ignore the tremors he felt as he removed his belt and tights. He left his tunic and braes on, to help him keep his promise. With a deep breath he turned around, avoiding looking at his friend, crawled under the blanket. He turned on his side away from the young man and laid as close to the edge as possible.

Sherlock grinned at John's obvious embarrassment and attempt to stay as far away as possible. "John, I won't bite. You can come a bit closer. The way you are now, you'll fall out of bed."

John looked over his shoulder and saw the smile. He grinned back and wriggled a bit closer, but still kept his back turned. "Good night, M'Lord. Sleep sweet."

"Sleep sweet to you." Sherlock replied, laying on his side, staring at the clothed back of his friend. 

It didn't take long for the knight to fall asleep. Sherlock knew the moment he did. His breathing slowed and became soft and regular. He just continued to stare, his emotions trying to overwhelm him. He never had anyone care about him before. Now, here was this injured knight, sent to 'mentor' him by his brother. He defied orders to report on his activities. He put up with his mood swings, odd behaviors, rudeness, and still managed to keep calm and keep him calm. His mere presence enveloped him in a soothing embrace. A soft touch took away the panic, and look tempered his anger. These were things he didn't have to do, but he did. Now he had these new feeling flowing through him. He couldn't identify what they were. He wished he could ask someone, but there was no he could think of other than John. Something would come to him. He delicately slid closer to the small man. He gently stroked his hair before slipping an arm over his waist. He risked a soft kiss to crown of John's head before closing his eyes and letting sleep settle over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, Please, Please let me know if I should kill or maim the fool. The next chapter or two will have that in it. I need to know what y'all would like to see. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Just give me a quick kudos and comment. Please, pretty please with a cherry on top. :)


	16. Morning After

John woke up to a warm body pressing against his side. A head of dark curls was resting on his chest, tucked under his chin. A pale arm wrapped tightly around his waist and a slender thigh resting across his groin. He had one arm cradling a set of thin shoulders while the other rested against the other's arm.

It took him only a moment to remember last night and what had led them to this embrace. John felt a slight warmth on his cheeks at the memory. He hadn't meant to be so bold, but Sherlock had taunted him. Challenged him. Made him face his feelings for him. He would never blame the Prince. In actuality, he should be thanking him for making him realize what he was feeling. If this snuggle was any indication, the Prince might reciprocate those feelings. God, he hoped so. He also hoped that Sherlock truly was a snuggler. John loved to cuddle with his bed partners and he planned to make Sherlock his last one very soon.

The older man just laid in the warm blankets, enjoying the moment, not knowing if he would get another chance. He dared to run his fingers through the dark curls. He had been fascinated by them from their first meeting and had to fight his desire to feel if they were as soft as they looked. The response from the younger man was a barely audible hum and a minutely rubbing of a leg across an already sensitive cock. John groaned and squeezed his partner tightly to him.

"Highness. If you continue in this manner, I will not be able to keep my promise from last eve."

Sherlock had to restrain a giggle, but could not help but grin. He had to have a bit of revenge for the torment his knight left him in. "M'Lord, what about the knightly code of conduct? The control you are supposed to maintain? Surely a small stretch of the legs," and he rubbed across again, "isn't enough to break you code of chivalry?" the Prince responded coyly.

The knight clamped a vice like hand on the torturous body part. "Desist!" he groaned loudly. "I know what your ploy is. Save it for later."

That caused the Prince to smile brightly. He raised himself up on his elbow and placed a chaste kiss on a very startled knight. "That I will, Sir John. Have no doubt." he replied with a wink and pulled himself from the warm bed. 

John just followed the young man with his eyes. His braes had shifted during the night, letting the bollocks peek out, and offering a glimpse of the cock that he hopped would be in his mouth in a matter of hours. Sherlock looked over his shoulder as he bent over to pick up his tights, allowing the creamy globes of his bottom to be shown. He flashed a teasing smile and received a pillow in the face for his trouble. Instead of being angry, he just let lose with a hearty laugh. "Get up, my dear knight. The sun is already showing his face."

"I am already up, My Lord. But as we have business to attend to, I will leave this warm nest of blankets and get dressed." Sherlock blushed hotly, causing his friend to laugh. Revenge can be sweet.

Both men dressed hastily without saying anything further. The playful banter of the morning enveloping them in a comfortable silence. John, fastening his sword, was the first to speak. "Are you going to enlighten me on who our ghost is? Or do I find out with the others?"

"John. Do you not pay any attention? Have I taught you nothing? Think and you will answer your own question."

John frowned and thought for a moment. Sherlock settle himself in the chair to wait for his friend's revelations.

"We know the King set up the game. In order to do so, he had to have someone assist him here in the village."

Sherlock waved his hand to continue.

"We know Anderson isn't involved due to his actions and obvious attachment to the old regime. All the victims where unknown travelers, so they can by anyone associated with the king or court. They were buried without any attempt to notify kin, so the undertaker had to be a part of the game. Anderson is to cheap to pay the ferryman fee. Even the poor make an attempt at that."

"Very good, John. Keep going." Sherlock was impressed that he had figured it out this far.

"So if the undertaker was involved, some one at the inn also had to play a part."

"You are correct, my dear John. " The Prince watched the epiphany cross John's face. He felt a sense of pride that he had been able to solve the puzzle. Of course he wasn't as quick as himself, but he also wasn't as practiced either. "Now that you have your answer, let us break our fast in the common room and enlighten Anderson and the rest." 

*****

 

The Prince led them to the same table from last night. The common room was unusually busy. Most likely, the people were hoping for a glimpse of the royal guests. The Matron must have kept this table open on the off chance they would dine with the villagers.

Once the men were seated, a young serving girl shyly approached. She was trembling due to her nerves at being so close to the prince and a high born knight. Sherlock was the one to speak first. Despite his loud proclamation of his despise of people, he was gentle in his manner with the young lass. "Lass, you have nothing to be afraid of. Sir John may look like a prickly hedgehog, but I can assure you, he is nothing but a softy. Tell us your name, young one."

The girl's head popped up with the soft speech and giggled at the hedgehog reference. John tried to look upset, but could only offer her a friendly smile. "My name is Molly, your Highness."

"Well, Molly, what can your your humble prince and his lowly knight do for you?"

"For me?" Molly asked shocked. "I am here to serve you, M'Lords. The Matron was busy in the kitchen and sent me in her stead. She hoped that you would not be angry with someone else."

"Angry?" Sherlock look affronted. "We could never be angry when a lovely young lass is brave enough to speak to us."

Molly smiled. "Shall I bring you what the rest of the house is having? Matron said that you didn't request a special meal last eve."

"Such a good observation, Molly. You are very clever. The house meal would be perfect, thank you." Sherlock replied with his gentle manner and eloquent tone.

Molly blushed at the compliment and bobbed a curtsy as she all but ran to the kitchen to share her news and get their meal.

John had sat back and watched the interaction of his friend and the serving girl. She could not have been more than 14 years of age. Old enough to flirt with but he choose to treat her like the child she still was. Most nobles would not have been vulgar and obscene. The Prince's kindness had been observed by everyone in the room, including the fool, Anderson. He had just solidified their loyalty to him even more. The knight just grinned and looked fondly at his friend.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?' asked John.

"Did what? Speak with the girl? John, you don't think me such a monster that I would be rude to a child? I was completely honest when I said she was clever. Most young ones don't pay that kind of attention to details." 

"I don't ever think you are a monster, M'Lord. An arse at times, but never a monster." John answered cheekily.

Sherlock was about to reply when Molly and the Matron appeared with their meal. "M'Lords, I apologize for not serving you when you came in. The inn is uncommonly busy this morning. "

John was the one to assure the Matron that all was well. They enjoyed having young Molly attend them. Prince William injected into the conversation that he would enlighten them to who the ghost was after they finished breaking their fast. He did have enough courtesy to ask if she would prefer to have the revelation done in private or in front of the entire village. "If you please, Your Highness, I would like for the village to also hear you directly. That would dispel most of the rumors, I think."

"As you wish, Matron." Sherlock answered with a knowing look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all that have commented. I do the happy dance every time I get one. You are giving me warm fuzzies that make my day. So many hits and kuddos. I can't believe so many of you enjoy this story. Hugs to each and every one of you. I hope to include some Mystrade in the next chapter; it depends on how well the boys cooperate. This story is starting to come to an end. Only two or three or so more chapters left. I am toying with a sequel, we'll see. Again, it depends on the boys. We know how stubborn the Holmes brothers can get. Please continue to let me know what you think. Good, bad or otherwise. Warm fuzzies to you all.


	17. Revelations

It seemed like the entire village was packed into the common room. Having this many people around the the prince and no extra guards made the knight nervous. He could only defend his liege for so long unaided. He sent a silent prayer that there were not to many old loyalists around, he knew that this encounter wasn't going to go well for some.

Despite the large numbers of people, Sherlock appeared to maintain his calm. He didn't show signs of being under the influence of anything. John observed closer, and there it was. A slight tension in the hands, eyes just a bit wider than normal. Barely accelerated respiration. Things other would not notice, but John does, because it's Sherlock. He moves his leg under the table to rest slight against the younger mans. A nudge back against his leg let's him know the gesture was welcome.

The atmosphere is one of excitement. Rumor spread that the Prince, himself, would reveal the ghost. Some older timers thought that he would be spell casting and wanted the proof that he was a witch. The younger set just scoffed. Ideas of science were starting to seep into people thoughts. Not to say they still didn't believe in magic, but becoming more accepting of different ideas and thoughts.

Once it appeared the room was becoming restless, Sherlock rose and went to stand in the center of the room. John followed but remain off to the side, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanning the room for trouble. Prince William raised his hand and the room fell silent. The Matron had come out from behind the bar to stand in front of the staircase. Anderson stood just in front of the bar, worrying a towel in his hands. Even young Molly wormed her way to sit at the prince's feet.

The Prince looked over the people with a neutral expression. No malice, no fondness - just blank, until he spied Molly. Then he offered her just a whisper of a smile. "My subjects, " he began with a strong, firm voice, "I want to assure you good people that there is no ghost here, nor has there ever been one. It was a game to provide a bit of amusement for a town getting a little to sleepy."

There were a few chuckles at that. The young noble gave the crowd a smile. Only John could tell it wasn't real. "How do you know?, you ask. The hauntings have been going on before I arrived to the castle from my exile."

"You did it. You put the curse on us so you could remove it and be the hero. To make people forget what you really are. A witch." Anderson screamed out. 

The room gasped and his wife had a murderous look in eyes as she took a step toward him. "Shut up you fool." she hissed at him.

John had moved quickly to stand in front of the young royal, sword drawn, ready to protect.

"Matron, it is quite alright." Prince William stated dryly. "Sir Knight, at ease."

"Highness?" John looked at his friend and back at a sweating Anderson. Sherlock stared back and he hesitantly lowered his sword. He did not sheath it, however, still expecting trouble.

"Anderson. You are a sniveling, idiot who could not find his own prick. I am no more a witch than you are a man or inn keeper." A few snickers could be heard around the room. Anderson flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"Matron, if you would be so kind as to let your former guests join us?" 

The matron smiled and moved away from the stairs. The room made a collective gasp as the four men who had supposedly died of fright, entered the common room. Alive and sound.

"There were no deaths. The Matron and Undertaker helped hide them until they could slip away unnoticed. The mysterious winds were just bellows at the top of the chimney. The rest, just simple children's pranks." Prince William stated calmly.

Anderson looked like he was going to be ill. He turned to his wife, "You Knew? You even took part? How could you do this to me?" 

"To you? You would have lost us the Quacking Duck. Then where would we be? All you can do is bemoan how things were so much better under the old king. How he should have had the young prince burned at the stake instead of sending him away." Matron yelled, panting a bit with the effort. "Things are better under King Mycroft. He's stern, but fair. He don't tax the death out of his people. Folks is actually happier now, almost prosperous even. You're just jealous because Prince William is smarter than you, and had the eye of Lady Sally. Like she would have had the likes of you."

"Sally was mine until that witch stole her from me." Anderson insanely screamed, pointing at the prince. 

John again raised his blade while taking a step forward. Again, his friend told him to be at ease.

"I did no such thing, Anderson. That slut was aspiring higher than her station. You should be thanking me from sparing you from some nasty infection."

Anderson's mind snapped at that. He screamed and lunged for the Prince. Johns was faster. There were screams from every direction. People stampeding to get out the single doorway. 

Once the screams died down, the prince had been shoved into the corner, clutching a shaking Molly to his side. A circle of villagers protecting him from any further attack. Anderson gripped his side where the knight had run him through. He crouched with a mad glint in his eyes and bolted from the room. John gave chase. Sherlock tried to follow, but was held back by two of the larger men.

The knight followed the fool to the end of the lane when he lost sight of him. He feared leaving Sherlock unattended more than finding Anderson, so he left off the chase and headed back to his prince.

The sight that greeted him back at the Quacking Duck gave the older man pause. The prince was sitting calmly at their table, speaking freely with the child, Molly. The two men held Sherlock back were flanking the table, offering their protection. Villagers were trying to set the room to rights. The matron walked silently up to the knight and stood watch the goings on.

"I couldn't catch him, Matron. I'm sorry." John said quietly.

"Don't be sorry. You're duty is to remain with the Prince, not chase some piece of trash. You had no way of knowing we wouldn't let any harm come to him. 'Sides, I don't think that bastard would dare show his face here again."

John snorted. "Why did you do it? Play the game?"

"The king asked me too, of course."

"It's more that that, isn't it."

"You seed more than most, Sir Knight. It was a chance to get back at that lousy excuse of a husband. Humiliate him. Like he's done to me. The king gave me a chance to get rid of him. No questions asked, no troubles after. You know as well as I do, a woman has no rights."

"Makes perfect sense, M'Lady. Thank you for an engaging puzzle and wonderful hospitality. Will you be alright?" 

"Oh yeah. The king made sure of that. Times are changing. Go get your young man there and take him home. " With that, Matron left for the kitchen.

John walked to the table and waited. Prince William paused in his conversation with Molly to look at his friend. "Don't worry about not catching him. There will be another opportunity later, I'm sure of it." John didn't even question how he knew about Anderson. That was just how Sherlock was. "Run along, Molly. There will be other opportunities to talk."

Molly looked at the prince with admiration as she darted back to the kitchen. John looked over the two men still flanking the Prince. "Many thanks for watching over the Prince in my absence. I am grateful."

"It was our pleasure, M'Lord."

"What are your names so that I can make sure you are properly honoured for your loyalty to the crown?" John asked

"I'm Henry. This here is James. We run the local blacksmith. Now that you're back, best be getting back to work. Your Highness. M'Lord."

Once the two self appointed guards left, the prince stood with out giving a second glance at John, and left the inn. The prince was already seated upon his horse. The stable lad handed the reins over to John. "I brushed them m'self this morning, sir. Looked after 'em just liked you said to." 

John winked at the young boy and handed him a penny for his troubles. "A fine job you did, lad. My thanks."

"Thank you, sir." the lad beamed, running off to show his treasure to the other boys.

Molly ran out at the last moment to give them a wrapped bundle. "In case you get hungry. It's a long ride back to the castle."

"Our gratitude, Miss Molly." Sherlock replied. "Make hast, John or we will lose our daylight. I have no wish to be on the road after nightfall." Without further ado, he spun his horse around and took off down the road. John shrugged at the serving girl and followed after.


	18. Revelations At the Castle

"Walk with me, Preceptor." Mycroft commanded.

The older man didn't need to respond. He just fell into step next to his king. He had noticed that Mycroft was unusually tense. Typically after a rendezvous in the throne room kept both of them content and cheerful for at least a day or so. This time the tension was back by dinner. Gregory wanted to ask what was troubling his lover. He was almost certain that it had to do with his brother, but he knew that Mycroft would tell him in his own time.

The men remained silent as they crossed the halls of the castle. It wasn't until they were heading towards the maze that Gregory understood it to be of a serious nature. One that required delicacy . This was one of the only private places on the castle grounds.

They were deep inside the maze before the younger man stopped and face his lover. He stared into the face of the man he had been in love with for almost 20 years. His gaze traveled over the silver hair, the tiny wrinkles around grey eyes, becoming more pronounced when they were lit up with a smile. The lips that could harden in an instant if he were angry, but for him they could warm him from his deepest misery with a smile. Make him feel guilty with a pout. Send him to the stars when they were wrapped around his cock. It wasn't just the physical. He had a mind that saw things from different perspectives. Even caught things he missed, on occasion. He was always surprised by this man. That's why when he discovered the secret about his brother and involvement with his father, made him question what else he may be hiding.

Gregory gazed back. He could tell his lover was worried about him. The way he look at his face, trying to memorize it. He refused to worry. He had done nothing to cause this man pain. He had loved hims since he was a young man in his 20's and an apprentice to the former Preceptor.

Mycroft had to have one last taste of those lips. Feel the still firm body against his. One more time, before he lost the love of his life. Without any warning, he grabbed the shorter man by the neck and pulled him flush against his form. His other arm wrapped tightly around the others waist. His mouth crashing against the lips that haunt his dreams and distract him from his work. There is not finesse, only passion. Raw, hungry, uncontrolled passion.

Gregory immediately grabbed Mycroft's shoulders to keep falling. He opens his mouth to let in the hot demanding tongue of his lover. He let's Myc take what he wants. He can feel the desperation in the kiss. The way his hands run up and down his back. Gripping his hips tightly to his own, rutting against his thigh. The sounds of torment and despair are mixed with the groans of want and need. Gregory doesn't understand why, he just pours all his love and comfort into the kiss. The embrace.

As quickly as it started, it stops. Mycroft holds Gregory as tightly as possible. Whispers "I love you. Don't ever forget that." The king pulls away, walks down the path to a bench hidden within the hedge.

The Preceptor watches him go. Worried now. Mycroft's actions, words are ominous. Something has happened and he seems to be a part of it. As soon as his breathing is under control, he joins the king on the bench.

"What do you remember of my father's rule?" Mycroft asks quietly.

Gregory is take back. They had agreed not to discuss this period in their lives. It was very dark times for them both. The each had to do things they were not proud of, but had to do in order to survive.

"He started out like you. Strong. Firm, but fair. At least that's what I heard. I was to young to remember that period. Then he started changing. Became more focused on power. Greed. Absolute loyalty. No questions, just blindly follow. If you crossed him, or slighted him in any way, he would punish you. There were times he punished people and there was no reason. He just wanted to see the pain. Hear the screams." Gregory got lost in the memories. When he came back, he asked, "They were very dark times. Why do you want to know about it know?"

Mycroft wouldn't look at the man next to him. Nor did he answer the question asked. "What do you remember about my mother? You should be old enough to recall her."

Gregory struggled to understand where this was heading but he answered just the same.

"Your mother wasn't anything like your father. She was kind. Had a mind just like yours. Though she didn't use it like you or your brother. She preferred to play the dutiful wife. Quiet, compliant to her husband. I think it was her way to protect you both. I hoped that the alliance between the two kingdoms was worth it. I never approved of arranged marriages."

"Do you know what happened t her?" the king asked in a barely audible tone.

"Yes."

The silence stretched between them. The older man wasn't asked to elaborate, but he knew he was expected to. "When it was discovered that you had the same observational skills as your mother, the king wen a little mad. I think that's when it started to get bad at court. Then William..."

"Sherlock. Mother gave him that name." Myc injected softly.

"Sherlock was born and he was just like you. It went from bad to worse."

"And Mother?"

"Jesus, Mycroft. Don't make me..."

"I need to hear you say it."

"Your father had her put to death. He wanted a normal son. He was afraid she would only give him more heirs like you. Of course he couldn't admit that. He had an heir. If he did anything, the people would turn against him. So he made it look like a riding accident. I heard the plans. Heard the king give the orders. Being the Preceptors apprentice I had to be present. Show my loyalty. Unquestioning loyalty."

"I don't blame you for her death. There was nothing you could do. We all did - things- to survive."

Gregory knelt down in front of his king, placing his hands upon his knees. "Then what do you blame me for? What have I done to upset you so? We agreed not to discuss these times, yet you are asking me to relive it. To take you with me. Why do you insist on reliving this pain?" Gregory plead with his lover. He want so desperately to hold him - but knew he couldn't. He just prayed he wasn't about to lose his heart.

Mycroft wanted to cry. To forget the entire thing and beg Gregory's forgiveness for dredging up the past, but he had to know the truth. Had to hear it from his lips. That he was the one to write the order to execute his brother.


	19. Journey

John let Sherlock set the pace for the first part of the journey. He could tell he was anxious to be back at the castle. What he wasn't completely sure of was it the bedroom banter driving him or just the need to be back and away from so many others. He was hesitant to ask. They were comfortable with each other. Knew how to work with each other. Just like friends aught to be able to do. Friends didn't usually share chambers either, but this wasn't a normal situation. If a female royal could have a lady-in-waiting, why couldn't Sherlock have a lord-in-waiting? The thought caused him to giggle.

The noise made the prince turn in his saddle and look at him. They had riding at a somewhat leisurely pace for the past hour or so. "What amuses you so?"

John hadn't realized that he giggled loud enough to heard. "Nothing, Highness."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the obvious lie, but let it go. "Let's stop here. I grow hungry."

Wasn't the prince full of surprises. Being nice to people. Talking with a child. Snogging him senseless. Now, wanting to eat? At least it was a decent spot. Somewhat private with minimal hiding places for undesirables. Shade from the large trees, a small stream and vegetation for the horses to graze.

"Nice choice, M'Lord. I couldn't have done better. Well, perhaps not have had as many possible hiding spots." the knight teased.

Sherlock just harrumphed as he dismounted. He never stood on formality that his rank dictated. He had been alone so long he didn't see the point of starting now. Besides, it was John, not some servant. 

He settled himself under a tree, resting against the trunk, closing his eyes. John tied the horses o they could graze and drink without wander off. he grabbed the bundles that Molly had given them and sat down next to the prince. He nudged the other to get him to wake up and take the offered package.

"Thank you, John."

"You're welcome. What's with the manners all of a sudden. You're starting to worry me a bit." John asked lightly.

"I just thought I should be more forward with my manners. Isn't that what you have been trying to get me to do, John?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"I also observed that the people respond more favorable to the simple words."

"True. Just the simple 'thank you' and 'please' will get you much farther than when you just glare at one." responded.

The conversation drifted off from there. The prince seeming to think about what John had said. They ate their small meal in companionable silence. When they were done, they just continued to sit and watch the nature around them.

"So. If I said 'please' more with you, would you go farther with me?" asked the young man demurely refusing to look at his friend.

John cleared his throat, completely unprepared for the question that seem to come out of no where. "I suppose it depends on what context it was used in." he replied as neutrally as possible.

The prince looked at John then. He saw the increased respiration, the way he refused to look him in the eyes. He scooted closer to the smaller man. "If I said "Please, John. Kiss me?' Would you?"

John gulped. His heart trying beat out of his chest. His hands curling into fists. "I suppose I would. Since you asked so politely." he answered, looking into his friends eyes. Trying to discern if this was some sort of joke.

All he saw was a half lidded gaze that kept flitting from his mouth to his eyes. He refused to move. This was Sherlock's game. He had to make the first move.

"Kiss me, John. Please?" Sherlock breathed in his deep baritone.

"Since you asked so nicely."

John leaned slowly toward the young man, placing a hand on the trunk to balance himself. He placed a soft, lingering kiss on the cupids bow, licking delicately once before pulling away to his staring seat.

Sherlock looked at him with a disappointing pout. He followed the look with the audacious "You call that a kiss? My nurse gave me better kisses when I was a child." He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted the passion. The hot, unbridled passion of last night. He got what he wanted by goading, so he tried it again.

Last night. He could barely contain himself as he lay on the hard. muscular frame of his knight. Feeling the soft, wiry hairs tickle his nose as he laid on his chest. It was more comfortable than the finest down. Having strong arms hold him tight, make him feel safe for the the first time. Cherished like he was worth protecting.

Sherlock wanted more. He wanted to be sure that their banter was not in the heat of the moment. Thant John meant he would take him once they reached the castle. His thoughts had been filled with what john would do to him once they were back. He had to keep varying the tempo of the horse let he cum in his braes like a lad. When he spied this glen, he knew it to be the perfect spot to see if John still had feelings. He was playing right into his hands.

John growled at the younger man. He could tell by the gleam in his eye and the pouting lips that he was trying to tempt him. Most likely trying to test his resolve. The older man could see right through this ruse. He could also see right through the young man's bravado. He saw the shyness and insecurities he kept hidden, even from himself. 

Last night he felt when Sherlock cuddled up next to him. Used him as a pillow. Clung to him like a stuffed bear. Hi heart surged and the over whelming urge to protect this man came sweeping through him. He had never felt it like that before. He knew in his heart, his entire being, that he was meant to be with this brilliant, annoying, beautiful man for the rest of his life. He would protect him, love him until time stood still.

However, that didn't mean he would give in to his tricks. Allow himself to be played the fool. "Your Highness, that is all I shall give you until we are back in the privacy of our chambers. Preferably your bed chamber as it has the softer linens." John haughtily told his prince as he stood up. He couldn't help but smirk at the shocked expression on Sherlock's face. He was always trying to under estimate him. Chuckling softly, he went to get the horses.

Sherlock sat back against the tree, mouth hanging open. Trying to process what had just happened. Damn. He surprised him again. He should be used to it by now. That man is always doing the least expected. That's one of the reasons he loves him.

That word gave him pause. Love. Did he really know what it means to love? He knows he's never had these feelings for anyone before, but is this what love feels like? He wished he could ask someone about it. The only one he could think of Lord Gregory. Perhaps he might ask him. Surely he would be discrete and not tell his brother.

The prince was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the branch snap as the heavy body landed next to him. It was when he felt the sharp blade against his throat that he knew he had been caught.

*****

 

As soon as heard the snap, the knight swung around with his sword at the ready. He wasn't fast enough this time. Anderson already had the blade at his lover's throat and he was to far away to do a thing about it.

Their eyes locked. John could see fear hiding the blue depths as well as complete trust. Sherlock knew that John would find a way to solve this mess. To his credit, the prince remained calm. Unfortunately, that was all he could do. That man never knew when to keep his mouth closed.

"Anderson. How good of you to join us in your last hours."

"Sherlock." John warned, inching his was closer to the pair.

Anderson saw the move and press the blade harder on the young royal's throat, causing tiny red beads to well up. John stopped and dropped his sword. He nodded and turned his attention back to the prince.

"Why is he calling you Sherlock?"

"It's the name my mother gave me, vermin."

"Ohh. What do I owe for that bit of information?" Anderson cooed. Tracking the blade around his captive's adams apple.

"Consider it free. You'll be dead in a matter of hours."

"You think so?" Anderson coughed.

"Your wound has already begun to fester. You have lost a great deal of blood. That, combined with your shallow breath and couch tell me you are dying."

"You caused it witch." he yelled. "I'm going to take you with me." he yanked his head back exposing more of the long neck.

"Why are people always pulling my hair?" The prince hissed as the knife was pressed deeper.

John had been steadily moving closer to the men during the conversation, whilst reaching for the dagger kept in his boot. He understood that Sherlock was buying time, and John appreciated it. He would have to remind the young royal not anger a mad man.

"I'll explain it to you later, love. Now shut up." John spoke.

Anderson's eye flashed to the stocky man standing less than a foot away, holding a dagger. He had been entranced by the sight of the blood running down the long creamy expanse that he hadn't hear the knight approach.

John quickly thrust the knife into the should holding the blade. Anderson threw the prince into the knight and tried to run. Sherlock managed to trip the fool, causing him to fall and hit his head against a rather large, pointy rock. Both nobles watch the pool of red slowly form around the dark head.

John looked down at the panting man in his arms. "You are not to take a risk like that again. Do you understand?" He wheezed, punctuated by a shake of the young man's shoulders. 

"I can make no promises. But I will try. May I please have a kiss now?" the prince asked breathlessly.

"Let me ten your neck first. Then yes. You may have a kiss." The man had a one track mind.

John washed away the blood and was releaved to find that the cuts weren't deep. Barely more than a scratch. He would clean and bind them with a healing salve when they returned to the castle. To keep them from festering. For now, this would have to do.

Sherlock's eyes had fluttered shut under John's gentle ministrations. Even the soft strokes of the damp cloth to remove the blood almost felt erotic. Like John's tongue when he would lick his way to his ear or collar. It took a shocking amount of will not to let any sound escape.

He kept his eye closed in anticipation of his kiss. He couldn't resist one last brazen comment, "It had be better than my nurses."

This caused John to laugh so hard that tears came to his eyes. Sherlocks flew open. He too couldn't help but join in the mirth.

"You are a cheeky bastard." John managed to choke out between fits of laughter.

"I did say 'please'" Sherlock informed him haughtily, but smiling with mirth all the same.

John just grinned back at his friend. He loved this man. Despite everything, he wouldn't change a thing. He gently pushed Sherlock to lay on the ground. They had move away from the body so they wouldn't have to be reminded of their earlier torment.

Sherlock reached up with one had to brush the blonde locks out of the face he loved. The other framed his cheek. He let his fingers trace across his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. The other traced cheekbones, down the side of the face before gliding across full lips.

John allowed the silent exploration. Languishing in the feeling building up inside. He moved to lay more fully on top of his lover, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. His hands running through the curls at the sides of his head. The move drew a moan out of both men.

Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around his knights shoulders. He felt his growing arousal nest to his own. He was the one to break the kiss. The royal took advantage of his long neck to lick and kiss his way across John's throat. He nipped the space behind one ear, bringing forth a whimper and slight thrust of hips. He hummed in approval as John tilted his head to give Sherlock more room to explore.

Explore he did. He wanted to hear what other sounds he could force from his lover. He drew a hot, wet tongue down to where the neck met the shoulder. This caused a shudder, swiftly drawn breath, and another roll of hips. Sherlock wondered what would happen if he bit down on that same spot. Always one to discover answers - he did. The result was a loud groan. Hands grabbing his arse and pulling it hard against the others cock so he could rut against his own.

Sherlock let out a load moan of his own. His hands roamed down to cup John's arse. Squeezing, caressing the firm globes of flesh beneath the tights. He brought up his mouth to capture the knights. He thrust his tongue inside, exploring, tasting every part that was John.

John let him do it. Joining in the exploration. Fucking his mouth like he would eventually fuck his body. It felt so good. He rut harder against the cock below him. Delighting in the answering thrusts.

Soon the kisses became sloppy and wet. The thrusts harder and faster until both yelled out their release. John rolled them to their sides, holding the taller man close to his heart. Their breathing returning to normal. Sherlock commented "That was much better than nurses."

John giggled, placing a kiss on top the dark curls. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go so far."

Sherlock pulled back and placed his fingers on John's lips. "Shh. None of that. I wouldn't have allowed you to do it if I wasn't willing. Besides. That wasn't what you promised me."

It only took John a moment to understand what Sherlock meant. He placed a quick kiss on his lovers lips. "That is true. Let's call this a sample of things yet to come. Pardon the pun." He stood, helping Sherlock to his feet. Both men were a mess, but grinning like idiots. They cleaned up as best they could.

"We need to leave, Highness. It grows late."

"Aye, Sir Knight. What about Anderson?"

"I'll send one of the lesser knights to collect what remains of the body. Wolves or some other creature will most likely make a meal of him." John replied gathering the horses.

"Let's hope they don't get indigestion."

Both laughed at the droll comment as they mounted the horses. They gave each other a loving smile and took off to the castle. Both in a hurry to fulfill the promises made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a long chapter. I hope their encounter made it worth it.


	20. Love Lost?

Mycroft couldn't bear Gregory's hands on him. See the pleading look for understanding in his eyes. He had to get away. Escape from the pain. He sprang up from the bench, knocking the older man to the ground. He took off running down the path, out of sight.

Gregory sat there and watched his lover flee, tears streaming down his face. What cause the great Mycroft, King of all England, to bolt and flee like the hounds of hell were on his heals. Than man never ran. Gracefully retreated if necessary, but not run.

He wiped his eyes. Stoop up grimacing at the pain in his knees and hip. He was getting old. Perhaps this is what the king wanted. Someone younger, who wasn't a part of his father's court. It didn't matter. Now he had to be the Preceptor. His loyal advisory. He had to find his king and get to the bottom of this. Feelings be damned. Gregory brushed the dirt from his robes and followed aft the younger man. He knew where to find him. When ever emotions became to much, Mycroft always went to the same place. In this, he was predictable.

*****

 

The maze had a secret door that led to a private glen. From above, one could see the design of the maze. The gardeners were very clever and hid the way to this spot. It could not be spied from above or below. One had to know the way here. Know where the secret door was hidden. The Preceptor suspected that a charm had been placed over the area to help with it's concealment.

It didn't take him long to reach the glen. He found his king sitting on his favorite rock, next to the small pool of water. The sun that could find it's way through the leaves cast the clearing in a warm golden light. A particularly subtly ray hit Mycroft just so. It made his hair look like burnt gold and cast a halo around his features. Gregory could only stand in awe of this great man. Soaking up his beauty. He suspected this would be the last time he would have this chance.

Mycroft knew the moment the Preceptor arrived at the edge of the clearing. He could see his reflection in the still water of the pond. He saw the swollen eyes, dirty robes. He caused that and was filled with shame. He had to do this now, before his brother got back. He didn't want him to know that is was his own lover that wanted him dead. He allowed a bit of cowardice for the question, give himself time to gather his courage to face his lover for the answer.

"I discovered an older record book of my fathers. It was odd. The book was burried behind others, placed in such a way that the person that put it there didn't want it found. I never would have if I hadn't been looking for some obscure law book.

When I went through it, it had the usual accounts. How much land was deeded to this knight. How much tax from that village. Execution orders. Everything dated around the time my brother was sent into exile." 

It was at this point Mycroft turned to look right at his Preceptor. Gregory knew what was coming and blanched. He forced himself to keep a blank look upon his face. Willed himself to stay upright. Clasped his hands in the sleeves of his robe to hide the shaking of his hands. He remained silent and let the king continue.

"You had earned the rank of Journeyman to the Preceptor by that time. Were privy to some very sensitive discussions. Even allowed to speak with some degree of freedom. Is that correct, Preceptor?"

"Yes, Sire." Gregory sent a silent thanks that his voice didn't shake when he answered.

"I found the order to execute my brother, Prince William. Currently next in live for the throne. My heir apparent."

Gregory swallowed, but refused to flinch at that anger and hurt that that tone of voice held.

"It was written in your hand. Sealed with your initials. Dated the day before my brother left."

Gregory wanted to vomit. This was the one thing he hoped Mycroft would never learn of. He thought the original execution order had been destroyed. 

At this point Mycroft got up to stand directly in front of his lover. He had to watch his eyes as he heard the answer.

"Is this correct, Gregory? Did you agree to let them kill my baby brother?" He tried to be strong. Be the stern king that his people knew, but his voice betrayed him. The question came out in a whisper, pleading that he was wrong.

It was to good to last. There was no way the king, Mycroft, would ever keep him around. This was treason. He just prayed that he held a last little bit of love for him to make his death as quick and painless as possible. These next words would cost him his life.

"That is correct, Sire. I wrote the order. In front of your father, the king and his Preceptor, I place my seal."

Gregory met Mycroft's eyes. He didn't try to hide the truth. He did the deed and would accept the consequences for his actions. A tiny moan escaped from the king. He nodded at the confession. He turned away from his love and tiredly sank to the ground at the edge of the pool. "I give you one hour to resent yourself before me for your sentencing. You are a man of honour, Sir Gregory Lestrade. I trust that you will be there."

"I thank you for your trust, M'Lord. I will be there." He formally bowed to his king, even though it was to his back. With his head down and tears running down his cheeks, Gregory left the glen. He had just enough time to get ready for what came next.

As soon as the older man left, Mycroft cradled his face in his hands and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for all the angst. This is what the boys wanted. I'll give you a little hint. Things work out okay. Promise. Comments and Kuddos make my day. I do the happy dance that totally embarrasses my teenager. Thank you all who have take the time to read my story. Almost 600 hits in a couple of months. I can hardly believe it *squeals like a little kid* Hugs to you all.


	21. Love Searching?

While Gregory walked back to the castle he thought of what he should do. Running wasn't an option. He did have his honour, if nothing else. He knew he would leave one last note; tucked someplace where Mycroft wouldn't discover it till later. Hopefully after the edge of his treasonous actions had dulled.

Once he entered the castle, the Preceptor headed to the old king chambers. Mycroft had refused to used them. To many horrors had happened there. Some balked at his break in tradition. Kings had been using these rooms for hundreds of years. They were next to the Queens, but Mycroft had been adamant. That is why this place mad the perfect hiding spot.

Due to his status of partner to the king, Gregory was able to go past the guards, no questions asked. Even unused, two guards were always posted. To keep away those who would try to sneak in.

The rooms hadn't changed n all the years since the old king died. There was dust coating every inch. Only family was allowed. After today, he would be. He did't dwell on that, but headed straight to the window over looking the country side. The older man scanned the stones next to the ledge until he spied the one he wanted. Carefully he wiggled the brick from it's moorings. He heaved a sigh of relief that the paper was still there. He gave a grim chuckle that this had been hiding under the kings nose all these years. How ironic. It was written to save a life. Now it will be the end of one.

Gregory placed the stone back, making sure that it didn't look disturbed. He tucked the scroll into his robe. When he turned to leave, he almost ran into the King. Mycroft was standing just inside the door way, watching, a blank look upon his face.

He pulled up short. "Mycroft?" fell from his lips in surprise. The older man blushed furiously , know he wasn't allowed to use the king's christian name any longer.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mycroft asked in a stern voice.

The Preceptor wasn't sure how much the king saw, so he decided to play the fool. "The meaning of what, Sire? You gave me one hour before I was to be in the throne room. I didn't realize my last hour as a free may was to be dictated."

"Don't play the fool with my, Gregory. It doesn't suit you."

"Then explain your meaning?"

The king growled and stepped further into the room. "I mean, what are you doing in my fathers' sitting room?"

"The view from this window is the best in the entire castle. One of the reasons it belonged to the king. I just wanted one last look. Surely you can't deny me that?" Gregory knew he was being obtuse, but he couldn't let Mycroft know of this scroll until after. A thought occurred to him, "How did you find me?" As soon as it left his mouth, he realized how foolish it was. He corrected himself, "Why did you want to find me? Afraid I would run?"

The king stepped closer to the smaller man. "No. You have to much integrity to do that. It was something you said at the glen. It didn't register in my mind properly at the time. Damn emotions. Sentiment."

Gregory's heart leaped at that. Perhaps there was still hope.

"May we please have this conversation else where? "The younger man sniffed in disgust. 

"I think not. It all began in this room and in this room it will end." Gregory calmly stated. He turned to sit on one of the dusty chairs, not bothering to brush it off. He motioned to the one next to him. Meaning for the king to sit.

Mycroft frowned. He attempted to brush the dirt off with the sleeve of his robe, but all it did was cause the dust to fly up and make the man sneeze. Gregory giggled, earning him a glare from the younger man.

The King settled in his chair, facing his Preceptor and waited. The silence stretched on. Neither wanted to be the first to speak. It was the older man that broke the tension. 

"What did I say at the glen that caused you to seek me out before our appointment?"

Mycroft couldn't help but blush faintly. "It was when you confessed to signing the death warrant. You said 'In front of your father, the King, and his Preceptor, I placed my seal.'" Here he paused and looked directly in the face of the only man he would ever love. "You had no choice. Unquestioning loyalty. If you refused, you would have been executed along with my brother."

The men continued to gaze longingly at each other. Gregory started to hope again. Mycroft still unsure if he lost his heart. "I tried to get Sherlock out before they could..." The older brother couldn't finish. He took a moment to compose himself. "I have be unable to figure out how he managed to escape the warrant."

The older man grinned widely and even let out a little laugh. The mighty Mycroft, admitting he was stumped. With a soft smile he only used for his lover, he reached out his hand towards his heart. Mycroft grabbed it and squeezed tightly, never wanting to let go. He tried to pull the older man to him, but the other resisted. He did not remove his hand.

"You weren't meant to put things together. It was for everyone's protection." Gregory started. He saw Mycroft wanting to interrupt. "No. Just listen. The Preceptor saw the changed in your father. It broke his heart. He looked upon him like a son. He knew he couldn't speak out with out consequence. He enlisted my aid and we worked together to save who we could. We both knew to be caught would mean death. We think your father was starting to suspect. So when he demanded that we both write and sign on your brother's death, we had no choice. However, we did have a plan prepared. We saw the signs that it was coming..."

Here Mycroft did stop him. He kissed the hand he held and caressed the knuckles with his thumb, offering support. Understanding what was trying to be said. Gregory sent a smile of gratitude and continued, knowing this next part would be difficult to tell.

"We wrote a separate order. One that said exile, not execute. It set forth the details of his exile, from where he could go, his rank, status, how he was to be treated. A monthly allowance was given. We made sure that he was well taken care of. By this time I had gotten pretty good at forging the king's signature. The Preceptor had access to the royal seal. It was decided that if we were discovered, I would be the one to take the blame. I was the one the king was suspecting. Being younger, he questioned my motives more. " Mycroft let out a small whine of distress. 

"The day before Prince William was to be brought forth for sentencing, I was able to use the forged letter to foll the guards into releasing your brother earlier. We weren't sure how your father would react."

"I remember that day clearly." Mycroft commented. 

"Your father was in a murderous mood when your brother didn't appear. When a search was conducted, it was discovered that he had left under the cover of darkness. By law he had to read the warrant before he could send anyone after him. He opened the notice, not suspecting a thing. Instead of death, he found our order of exile. He became apoplectic. 

"He couldn't go against the warrant he held in his hand without losing face. He knew then that it was either his Preceptor or I that must have made the switch. We knew we would both being paying the price."

"Stop!" Mycroft cried. It was beyond torture to hear this. Gregory, his heart, his love, was the one that saved his brother. "You were willing to die for my little brother. Why?"

"Because you love him. It would destroy you to lose him and I couldn't bear to see you in pain."

Mycroft was having difficulty understanding this new information. He still struggled to understand emotions.

"How did you survive my father's wrath?"

"The Preceptor took my place. Your father chose to 'punish' me instead. I don't wish to share details. Suffice it to say, I was gone for over a year before I could earn my way back."

The younger man could recall that time. The Preceptor and his Journeyman just disappeared. No one knew, or was willing to say, what had happened to them. He did remember quite clearly the day Gregory returned to court. He longed to go to him and discover where he had been. Somehow he never could. There were always some sort of interference. 

"You were willing to die, again, to protect this secret?" It wasn't really a question, but the king had to know.

"It is still treason to the crown, Sire. There are still pockets that would use this to bring back the old regime. I don't know how the original execution order survived. The Preceptor was to have destroyed it. I managed to hid the exile copy here before I was taken." Gregory handed the scroll he had tucked in his robes to the the man next to him. 

The king read it quickly . It was as the preceptor said. "Why did you not speak of this before? It would have allowed me to spare you." there was torment in his voice.

"For such a brilliant man, you can be such a fool. You hold the order of execution. With my seal along side the kings. I confessed to it. If you present this warrant, it would be used against you because we are lovers. I would never do anything that may cause you harm. Or lose face in front of your subjects. Either letter can be called treasonous."

Mycroft could not hold back his tears. Gregory was right. People would question the existence of two different warrants. He would have been forced to make a choice. This man had spared him the decision. He got down on his knees and took the others hand in his.

"Please forgive me, Gregory. Id din't want to pass sentence. There mere thought makes me want to vomit. Even though I accepted your confession blindly, you showed me your love. You tried to protect me. I am ashamed of my actions and humbled that you still give me your love freely. I am not worthy of it." The king laid his head in the smaller man's lap and wept.

Gregory stroked his brow. "There is nothing to forgive. It's my duty to protect you. Guide you in what is bet for England. Where words fail, my actions, my love, will be all I can give."

They sat like that for several minutes. Cherishing the closeness each allowed the other. Actions speaking where words could not. Once the king had composed himself, he stood pulling the small man up with him. Without speaking, he handed back the letter of exile. The Preceptor looked confused. The king arched his brow to stop the question he knew was coming. From inside his robe he produced the execution order. He tore it up in tine pieces and placed half in his pocket and gave half to the other man. In a dramatic whisper that caused a giggle from both "We shall burn them when we get back to our chambers, together. The document you hold in your hand shall be placed in the record book and returned to the spot in which I found it." With that, the king literally drug his Preceptor from the room. He didn't stop until they were safely back in their own chambers.

If the two men weren't in such a hurry to comfort each other, they may have see one of the guards standing rather close to the door instead of at his post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings, we are in the home stretch. There shouldn't be any more angst. Just some fluff, make up "naughtines", and making good on a promise. The last comments caused an eye roll and "Moooom" from the teenager. Thank you. (Any one who has, had or knows a teenager can hear the tone of voice. ) :D


	22. Promise Kept

John and Sherlock pushed their horses as hard as they dared. The only true hurry was a promise that needed to be kept. It didn't bother either one of them if Anderson ended up in the belly of a wolf. They arrived back at the castle just as the sun was setting. Bother were in a jovial mood as they rode to the stables. The knight insisted they make sure the animals were rubbed down and given extra attention for the hard work they performed.

John stopped by the garrison to inform the Master-At-Arms about Anderson. He as sent the prince on ahead to his chambers. There were a few things he needed to arrange for the evenings activities.

Sherlock was surprised to find that his brother did not demand he be brought forth before him upon his return. He would not have gone anyway. Not with John's promise. His cock starting to twitch at the thought. He smiled. He couldn't believe such a brave and loyal man would want him for him. In the past, people would try to get close because of what he could do for them. He discovered that the hard way, with Victors treachery.

The young man picked up his fiddle and began a lively tune. It wasn't long before servants entered baring a large tub and hot water. Other followed with a repast that could easily feed four large knights. This must be what John had slipped off to do. The gesture was not lost him. It caused his heart to swell knowing his friend, his John, was taking care of him.

He continued to play while the servants bustled about. They were used to the princes eccentricities. Just as the last one left, his knight stepped into the room, locking the door behind. John had already told the guards they were not to be disturbed unless under threat of war.

The lust burning in the older man's gaze cause the prince to miss notes. When he walked proudly to stand in front of him, the music floundered and finally stopped altogether. The instrument falling limply to his sides. The naked desired pouring off John caused Sherlock's mouth to go dry. His heart beat widely in his chest and arousal to settle in his loins.

John didn't say a word. He simply took the fiddle and bow from Sherlock's unresisting fingers and place them on the side table. Gently he laced their fingers and led them to the bath, a loving smile on his lips. A promise of pleasure shinning from his eyes.

The prince finally came to his senses, "I thought..." he started. 

John brushed his lips across the others to stop the question. "We will, but first a bath. We need to wash off the dirt from our journey. Then we shall dine on the meal Cook made special, just for us. We will need our strength for later." he winked, making the younger man blush. "Now, undress and get in the tub before the water gets cold."

"Will you be joining me, Sir Knight?" asked Sherlock flirtatiously.

"How would I bathe you if I did not?" the knight responded his voice dropping to a seductive tone. "Once you are in, you will place a cloth across your lap. I don't want to your cock until playtime. Just as you won't see mine until then. We shall touch and we shall feel, but we won't see our taste. There will not be any scent of sex until after dinner.

The images created in that voice was enough to make him whimper and cause his cock to grow even harder. He quickly did as he was told. Only when he was in the tub, cloth in place did the older man step in behind him.

John pulled Sherlock to settle between his thighs. His prick settling between the white cheeks of his soon to be lover. The prince groaned, clenching his arse and grinding back. John growled low in his throat. He grabbed the young man's hips in a bruising grip to still there movement. "Desist, or this night will be over before it has begun."

"But you said we could touch and feel." Sherlock whined.

"When it is your turn. Now it's mine." John ran his hands as far down Sherlock's legs as he could reach without bending. Then slowly brought them back up to caress his stomach, stopping to play with his nipples. He placed his lips next to his ear. "Now is the time for you to feel. Feel my fingers tease your pink, hard nubs. The slight sting of pain when I pinch them." The prince couldn't hold back the whimpers of pleasure John was giving him. "Feel how my fingers can trace the lines of your collar. Slide up the length of your gorgeous neck."

Sherlock grabbed a hold of the muscular thighs holding him. Kneading them as that soft, sultry voice whispered in his ear. He laid his head back on the other man's shoulder and let a groan escape his lips. His cock tenting the cloth. "Yes. John. Oh, yes." he let out in a low his.

"Feel the sensation of my fingers through your hair.. while I wash these decadent curls."

The kneading grew more intense. The prick between his cheeks grew hotter. "John." was uttered in a low rumble. His hips rock in tiny spurts. Trying to ease the ache building in his loins. 

The long, milky, white length of his exposed neck begged for him to drink. John took sips as he made his way to the hollow at the base. Here he lapped the sweat and water lingering there along with a taste that was unique only to Sherlock.

The sensations being created were to much for the prince. He quickly turned around so he was facing his knight. Ignoring the water splashing everywhere. He tangled his fingers in the blonde hair and pull until he could capture the others lips in a heated kiss. His tongue demanded entrance. It wrapped itself around the others and teased it back into his own. John moaned into the others mouth. His hand wrapping around the slender torso and pulling them together as tightly as possible.

There cocks were stiff and proud. Two iron rods rubbing against each other, hot enough to cause sparks. Sherlock reached between them to wrap his large hand around their pricks and began to stroke. Slowly, up and down. Catching the foreskin on one stroke, the glands on another. Both men starting to breath heavily. Panting. Their faces so close to each other that breathe each other's air.

It was John who placed his own had over the others. "Stop, Sherlock. Save it till later. It will be much sweeter, I promise." 

Sherlock drew in a shaky breath and nodded. "Turn, my love, so I may bathe you in the same manner."

John complied. He almost feared what the 'same manner' would be like coming from Sherlock. Erotic torture. The thought almost made him forget the cloth to conceal his manhood. By the time Sherlock finished, the water was cold and John a writhing mess. Each man dried themselves off - resisting the temptation to admire the others naked form.

*****

In only their bed robes, the two friends sat to enjoy their meal. John would feed Sherlock chunks of meat or cheese. Making sure the young man would have the needed energy.

"John. Enough." Sherlock laughed when his lover tried to get him to eat a juicy bit of berry.

John chuckled then grew quiet. The light banter during the meal suddenly fell away. The air grew thick with anticipation of what was to come. Both just stared at the other. Hunger showing on their faces. John pushed back his chair and held out his hand. Sherlock rose and accepted, lacing their fingers. Silently the knight let them to the bed chamber.

He pulled the taller man around to face him, lacing the fingers of the other hand. "Are you sure you want to do this? You've had a very taxing day." John asked softly -gesturing with his head towards the bandage. "We can wait if you need to rest."

"John. You have been driving me mad with want. Nothing will keep me from having your cock inside me this night." Sherlock announced.

The deep baritone sent desire straight to John's cock. "So be it." John pushed the robe off the slender shoulders in front of him, letting it puddle around their feet. He took a step back and looked upon his lover for the first time without anything to hide or tease his vision.

John could only stare. He didn't dare speak for fear of breaking the spell that was enveloping them. He let his gaze roam the full length of the pale beauty. His entire body was long, lean muscle. There were bones showing where a bit of meat would do him better. John made a mental note to make sure his friend/lover gained at least a stone or two. 

He wasn't as hairy as he thought. Just a light dusting of dark over long alabaster. There was a tiny trail of hair at the navel guiding John's eyes to the one thing he had been longing to to see. He had felt and touched, but nothing prepared him to see it.

His cock was long and slender, like the rest of him. His stones matching for size. It currently was hard and dark. The head pulled out of the foreskin, drooling for attention. It was reaching up, begging to be chosen.

Sherlock became uncomfortable under John's scrutiny. He tried to cover himself but his wrists were caught in gentle manacle and pulled away. 

"Don't ever cover yourself in my presence. You're beyond beautiful, Sherlock." John dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around the lean hips. Resting his cheek on the dripping prick. "You were truly made in the image of a god. I get down on my knees to worship you."

Sherlock looked down at the man kneeling at his feet. Those words humbled him. It was then that he knew that he was in love with his knight. His friend. His John. He buried his fingers into the blonde curls, tugging up.

The older man refused to move. He turned his head to nuzzle the now weeping cock. He inhaled the earthy scent that was sex and Sherlock. John ran the tip of his tongue up the under side of his shaft to the frenulum. He placed butterfly kissed around the glans before allowing a sip of the nectar pouring so freely. The prince dropped his head back. An almost painful moan issuing forth. John removed his robe. Sherlock raised up on his elbows to get his first look at the man he loved. His knight stood tall and proud. He wasn't preening, just allowing him to look his fill. The only sign of discomfort was the slight pinking of his ears.

Sherlock's gaze followed a similar path. Pausing briefly at John's prick. It seemed to know it was being admired and gave a little wave hello. He let his eyes wander down firm, stocky thighs and calves to sold feet. Where he had very little body hair, his knight had a thick coating of dusty brown, covering almost his entire body. His eyes returned to admire more fully the cock that he would soon have inside him. It was not overly long but thick, with a wide head. The balls were heavy, pulled up tight in arousal. 

The prince licked his lips and dropped back. "Oh, John. I love you." he whispered in his deep baritone.

John was kneeling over him for a kiss when he heard the whispered confession. It made him pause, setting back on his heels. Sherlock felt the change and opened his eyes to the blank expression on his knights face. He placed a hand on his cheek. "John? Was that wrong? I thought it customary to confess love in this situation."

John place his hand over Sherlocks. "Yes, it is, but only if you mean it." he answered slowly.

Sherlock wriggled his way so they were sitting face to face. He grabbed John's face and placed a chaste kiss. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I love you, John."

"I love you, too."

Sherlock pulled John the last few inches so their lips could meet in a hot open mouth kiss. They sank back, their tongues caressing and exploring. Letting all their built up love and passion be conveyed in this one kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the "good stuff" will be in the next chapter. This was getting longer than I thought. I'm wordy. ;) I also wanted something to tide y'all over for a bit. I should have the rest posted by tomorrow. After that will be some lovely Mystrade, followed by fluff. Ending in a sequel if there is enough of a demand.
> 
> Let me know what you are liking and what you would like more/less of. The explicit stuff is a bit more difficult for me to write. I don't want to sound or look like everyone else, that's why it takes longer, and still doesn't always work.
> 
> Thank you again for your kuddos and comments. They keep me going. Hugs to you all.


	23. Promise Kept pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dirty deed. A bit of PWP, sort of.

John covered Sherlock's body with his own. They continued to share passionate kisses. Hands roaming, grasping, trying to be as close together as they could. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's thighs, rutting up against him. Trying to get more friction to ease the ache in his cock.

John rips his mouth away and pants "Sherlock, are you ready? We don't have to do anything more than this. I will take care of you. Make sure you get your pleasure." He thrust his hips against the others a couple of more times to get his point across. 

"John. As much as I love you, if you don't fuck me soon, I shall have the guards string you up by your prick."

John laughed and lover joined in. It was a rare gift that you could laugh in the middle of a passionate moment. He reached for his bed robe to fetch a small pot of creme. Sherlock mewled at the momentary loss. John nuzzled his neck, placing feathery kisses to reassure his lover. He grabbed the pot and scooped a generous amount of the creme. He warmed it between his fingers until it started to become oily. Then he reached down to rub it around Sherlock's entrance. Letting him get used to the feeling. He kissed him just as he pushed in one finger. He felt the younger man arch up and gasp. 

"Okay, Love?" John asked, thrusting gently, just inside the muscular ring.

"Dear God, yes." Sherlock panted. "More. I need more."

John smirked and added a second finger, earning a whine. He gently stroked in and out. Twisting and scissoring his fingers. Stretching out the tight muscles. Sherlock twisting the linens in his hands. His head arching back. Always an opportunist when it came to his lover, John laved kisses along his neck. 

He continue to watch his lovers face for any signs of discomfort. John placed soft kisses along Sherlock's chest, teasing the hard pink nubs as he added a third finger. He loved the gasps and whimpers of pleasure he was drawing out of the full lips of his partner. It was when Sherlock begged, "John. Please. I need your cock inside me. Now." that his control slipped.

Scooping more of the creme, John slicked up his cock. He let Sherlock watch as he thrust his prick through the channel that his fist made. "This is what I am going to do to that pretty, white arse of yours."

"Yess" was the hissed reply. "Let me have it."

John brushed there lips, "Last warning" the tip of his cock caressing his lover's entrance.

"Fuck. Me.Now." the prince cried . That was all the knight needed to hear. He pushed just pas the tight ring of muscle. Even with the stretching, Sherlock tensed in pain.

"Breath love. I've got you." John crooned. When he could see the tension ease, he pushed in a little more. Making shallow thrusts, letting him get used to being stretched. 

Taking it slow was kill him, but he was determined that it be a pleasant experience for his lover. When John was finally in all the way, balls resting against arse, did he let out a loud, tortured groan. He dropped his head to rest against Sherlocks. Panting in his ear. "You are so tight. So hot. I don't know how long I can make this last."

"It doesn't matter. Just move. Please." Sherlock begged, thrusting himself against the hot rod buried inside him. Between words and actions, John lost the last thread of control and began to drive himself as hard, as fast, as he could. He pulled up the long limbs to rest on his shoulders, his hips pistoning back and forth. The sounds of sweat slicked flesh rubbing played counterpoint to the moans and whimpers pouring from open mouths. Hot breath panting. The musky odor of sex and sweat permeated the air.

"John. Oh. Oh. God. I need." Sherlock panted.

John slowed his frantic pace, "What do you need, love? Tell me."

"I need to cum."

John adjusted the angle of his thrusts and hit the bundle of nerves. Sherlock bowed so hard his back came off the bed, his scream of pleasure was sure to have brought the guards running if they had not been forewarned. John grinned like a fool for making his lover respond in such a manner. He continued to hit the same spot over again until Sherlock cried out his release. Creamy, hot ropes shooting so hard from his untouched prick that it hit in the chin, before finishing on his chest and stomach. The look of pure, undisguised pleasure on his lovers face pushed John over the edge. With one last thrust, he buried his cock in as far as it would go, shouting out his own release.

Sherlock could feel the warm seed filling him. Marking him as John's. The older man collapsed to the side, pulling Sherlock closer. Tucking the curly head under his chin. Arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled. They laid like that for long moments. Ignoring the cooling mess between them. John stroking Sherlock's curls. Sherlock playing with the wiry curls on John's chest. 

"I love you, Prince William." John whispered into the curls, with a smile. He gave a yelp when a few chest hairs were yanked unceremoniously from their brethren.

"I love you, as well, Sir Knight John Watson. But if you ever call me William inside of these chambers again, your hair will be the only thing I will pull." the prince replied in his usual tone making the knight laugh.

Sherlock chuckled and snuggled closer to his lover. The days events, not to mention the evenings activities had exhausted him He placed a soft kiss over Johns heart and drifted off to sleep. John smiled sleepily at the turn of events and let sleep take him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you all want the thrust by thrust level of detail. Or would a thrust, lick level be better? Some like it in the face, others prefer it less messy. How should I write it for you?


	24. Love Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Gregory finally make up.

The guards smirked at each other as they watched the King and Preceptor storm past them into their chambers. "Guess we'll be using the password for sure, this night."

*****

Mycroft didn't stop his frantic pace until they were both standing in from of the fireplace. He dropped Gregory's hand to reach for the parchment shreds, gesturing for Greg to do the same. Together they threw the parchment into the fire. Sealing their fates.

Gregory stared at the curling pieces while Mycroft tucked the forgery into the old law book. He thought about what Mycroft had done. He was always one to do things by the book. Never bending, Not even for him. But what they did just now, burning one order and hiding the other? Mycroft never ceased to amaze. He saved him or would be brought down with him. He just put love over country.

Mycroft came up behind and wrapped his arms around the shorter man, pulling them tightly together. Gregory laid his head back with a contented sigh. The two men stood there, watching the fire. Enjoying the closeness of one another. The taller man resting his head atop the others. The smaller man's arms wrapped over the bottom ones, playing with each others fingers. The urgency from earlier waned, but was still simmering below the surface.

Mycroft place a breathy kiss behind his lovers ear, making him start with a tiny gasp. He tipped his head to allow better access to his neck. A soft moan escaped Gregory's lips as Mycroft placed lingering kisses down his neck and over his Adam's apple. A gentle hand guiding his chin to meet a soft brush of lips against his own.

Gregory tried to capture those lips, but they remained elusive. Just brushing. Teasing with a barely there lick. The hand resting against his chin slid up to tangle in the silvery locks, holding his head in place for the exquisite torture. 

It finally became to much. Gregory let out a growl and turned in the taller man's embrace. He grabbed hand fulls of ginger hair and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. The king let him take control. His tongue forcing it's way into the other's mouth. Mapping it. Claiming it for his own. Mycroft tried to reciprocate, but Gregory wouldn't allow it. Every time he would try to lick his way in, Gregory would growl, capture it with his own before pushing it back. Once, there was a gentle nip that mad a shudder run down his spine.

All through this clashing of lips, hands were clawing through hair, roaming down backs, pulling at hips. Desperate to be close. The urgency from before bubbling up. They pulled and pushed at each other's robes, trying to get to bare skin without letting go of each other's lips.

When the last article of clothing had been removed, the two men sank to the rug at their feet. To desperate to make it to their bed. Mycroft stretched out over Gregory. The smaller man's legs drawn up. One wrapped around a long limb. His hands grasping at the round globes above him. His hips thrusting up with pushing down on hips. Trying to get friction for his aching cock. Mycroft nips at his ear before acquiescing, rutting against him. Prick sliding against prick. He buries his hands in the sliver hair. His eyes half mast as he stares at his lover. Panting as he thrusts harder against his lover. Diving in for an open mouth kiss.

Gregory's hands roam up and down the planes of the hard back, finally resting on the arse. Holding on as the thrust become more frantic. As good as this feels, he doesn't want to cum this way. He wants to be buried deep in the tight arse of his king. Filling him up with his seed. Marking him as his. With a hard thrust up and using the bent knee, he flipped them over. Mycroft gasping in surprise.

"I need to be inside you, Mycroft. Know that you still belong to me."

"Take me. Any way you want. I'm yours. Use me." Mycroft answered. He reach up and pulled his lover down for a sloppy wet kiss. Nothing but tongue, teeth and saliva. 

Gregory groaned into the hot cavern of the mouth below his. He sucked on Mycoft's tongue. Thrust his own into his mouth, mimicking what his body would be doing soon. Slowly Gregory left the swollen lips with a last lick and kissed his way down. Pausing only a moment to grab the oil they kept near the hearth for occasion such as these. I was nice and warm from the fire. He poured a small amount in his palm and returned his attention the writhing man below him.

The older man focused on the hard, red nubs, so pert, begging for his attention. He wrapped his lips around one, flicking it with his tongue. Then he sucked, hard. Mycroft keened and arched up into his mouth. At the same time the hand with the oil dropped down to rub the smooth flesh behind his stones. Rubbing the oil over the puckered ring of his hole. Just rubbing, teasing the muscle but lightly tracing around it.

"More." Mycroft gasped in a slightly higher tone.

Gregory bit the nipple as he pushed the first finger in past the knuckle and began to thrust it in and out. Mycroft grasped the silver mane and moaned at the double sensations.

"Gregory, Please."

Not wanting to disappoint, he added a second and third digit. Twisting and scissoring. Getting the muscles stretched to accept his throbbing cock. Mycroft continued to writhe under the dual ministrations of nipple and arse. Leaving him a panting, whimpering mess.

"Gregory. Now. Please." Mycroft begs. Reaching down to grab his lovers cock and guide it to his hole.

Gregory placed his hand on top and together they lined it up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself deep inside making Mycroft scream and arch up in pleasure. He just held still, balls to arse, eyes close. Savoring the tight, heat surrounding his cock. When he felt his lover move against him, he opened his eyes and began to thrust.

He started out slow. Pulling almost all the way out, only the head remaining inside, before sinking, inch by inch, back down to the base. Searching for the perfect angle that would send his king to the stars. It only took a couple of the tortuous thrust before the telling wail let out by the king let him know that he had struck the bundle of nerves.

"There, Gregory. There. " Mycroft gasped as he lover hit the spot over and over again. "So Good."

With each moan, Gregory got faster until the only sound was flesh hitting flesh. Hard enough to redden the arse. It wasn't long until Gregory was reaching for Mycoft's prick. Stroking it in time with his thrusts.

"I'm going to cum" panted Mycroft reaching up to his lover as he spurt his seed over their stomachs and chests.

Gregory allowed himself to be brought in for a passionate kiss as he gave a few last hard thrusts. His orgasm hitting as he broke the kiss and buried himself as deep as he could. Releasing his seed into the depths of his lovers bowels. Marking the king as his. "Mine." he groaned as a final spasm raced through him. "All. Mine."

"Yours." Mycroft breathed, pulling Gregory down to rest his full weight upon him. He loved the way it made him feel protected and safe.

They lay like that while catching their breath. Gregory could tell when it became to much for his lover and he slid to his back, pulling Mycroft to rest against his chest.

"I wouldn't have gone through with it." he whispered.

"Shh." Gregory said , placing a kiss on top of the ginger hair. "No more talk of this. What is done, is done."

Mycroft raised up to gaze into the grey eyes of his lover. He saw nothing but love for him shinning back. "I love you, Gregory."

"I know." was the cheeky reply. Both men giggled.

"Oi, M'Lord. I'm getting to old to lie on the stone floor. Rug or not. Let us retire to our soft bed where I can hold you close while we sleep." Gregory said rising stiffly from the floor.

Mycroft followed suit, groaning and grabbing at a pain in his back. "I think you are correct in that assumption, my dearest. However, I would never say nay to a repeat performance."

A sly smile spread across Gregory's face. He grabbed a cloth from next to a small basin of water that was always kept near by and snapped it at the lovely buttocks walking past. The younger man squealed, but would always deny he did. He was pulled into a loving kiss while being cleansed of the remnants of their lovemaking.

Once clean, the lovers settled themselves in the large feather bed. Mycroft curled around the smaller man. Holding tight, never wanting to let him go. He realized what a treasure he had been given and he would never risk it again.

"You're thinking to loud. Go to sleep." Gregory mumbled drowsily.

"Yes, dearest." Mycroft answered with a final squeeze before letting sleep claim him.


	25. Love Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. White, poufy, bunny fluff. Lots and lots of fluff. Some gratuitous smut. It's fluffy, too.

Gregory woke to an empty bed. It didn't surprise him. Mycroft never seemed to need as much sleep as him. No matter how stressful things may be, he was always up with the sun. Then he realized, there was no sun. He got up to look out the window. The stars were twinkling in an inky sky. No sounds came from the keep. It was still nigh. Not even close to dawn.

 

He went into the common room. Their robes were sill laying in front of the hearth, but a tray of food and ale and appeared on the small table. Greg snorted. That was probably the only thing the servant was allowed to do. Delivery the meal and leave.

There was no sign of the king. Gregory picked at the food and poured himself a mug of ale, trying to figure out where his lover had gotten off to. He wandered around the the room, picking up their garments. 'No need to make more work than necessary' he thought. When he stood up, he saw a ring laying on the ground. He frowned as he picked it up. He didn't recall them wearing any jewelry yesterday. He set the clothes on a chair and looked at the ring closer.

It was a simple gold signet. Much to plain to be the kings. He was about to shrug it off but something about the design caught his eye. Upon closer inspections the preceptor realized the signet was of a lion and unicorn flanking a beech tree with a greyhound at it's base. He let out a small gasp. It was a merging of the the Lestrade family and royal crests. He almost dropped it when he heard the clipped voice behind him.

"What do you think of it?"

Gregory turned slowly around to see his lover standing in his purple velvet bed robe, hands behind his back. He looked at the ring. Then at Mycroft. Then back at the ring. Clearing his throat and trying to smile, but failing, "I have never seen it's like." he answered, handing it to the younger man.

Mycroft dropped his hand as he gracefully walked to the shorter man, holding out the ring. He took the offering and brought it closer to his for inspection.

"I should hope not. I had it custom made." Turning the ring side to side, looking for any imperfections. "He did an impeccable job. If I do say so myself." He dropped the hand holding the ring to his side and stepped closer.

 

The two men were standing face to face, only a hands breadth between them. Mycroft gazing down at the older man that had stood by his side for the last five years. Longer if you count the years of pinning, friendship, and stolen moments. Gregory gazed up, hold his breath. Wondering. Hoping, this meant something.

"Do you know why I was searching the law books, Gregory?" the king asked in a whisper.

"Bored perhaps? Looking for some way to keep your brother out of mischief by providing out of date crimes for him to play with?"

"Not a bad idea, Gregory." Mycroft smiled. "But no. Not this time." He turned to stand behind his desk. Opening a dusty tome, he flipped through pages until he found the one he wanted. "Come her. I want to show you something."

Gregory let out a breath and went to join the king at this side. Mycroft pointed to the page and bid the other to read. He had to read the passage twice. His eye's growing wide. "Truly?" he whispered in shock, looking at Mycroft.

"Truly." Answered the king. His entire face lit happiness. With a soft smile on his lips, he held the ring in front of his lover. "Gregory, of the house Lestrade, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband? To legally rule by my side till death do part us?"

Gregory was speechless. He had dreamed of this for so long. He had always accepted that Mycroft and he could be bound together in the eyes of the church. He had never considered there could be a legal binding that would place him on the throne. He never thought Mycroft would want this. He believed the man was content with their situation. The court knew what they were to each other. It was never spoken out loud or flaunted when there were guests out of consideration to other beliefs. To find out he had been searching for a way to bind them for all to know- there were no words. He just stood there while tears steamed down his cheeks.

Mycroft watched the play of emotions across his lover's face. The tears were concerning.

"Gregory?" Mycroft whispered bring the older man back to the present.

"Yes, Mycroft."

Mycroft's entire face lit with a joy and love that and never been seen. For the briefest of moments he thought the tears meant a rejection. He placed the ring on his lover's finger, then place a tender kiss on the inside of his wrist.

Gregory just watched. If he saw it, then it was real. Mycroft pulled him against his chest. Their arms wrapping around each other's waists. Hugging so tightly that nothing could get between them. Gregory resting his head on the taller man's chest. Listening to the heart beat of his lover.

It didn't take long for the tender moment to shift into something more intimate. Mycroft pulled back to place a chaste kiss on Gregory's lips before taking his hand and leading him back to bed.

*****

Earlier it had been a desperate need for connection. Mycroft needed to be possed. To know it was only Gregory who could own him. It was a connection of the flesh.

Now was a time for soft caresses and sweet words. Gregory needed to be comforted. Held by his lover. Reassured. Now was a time to connect the souls.

<3<3<3<3<3

The bed curtains had been drawn closed save for the one facing the fire. Creating a sacred space for the two lovers. The men were facing each other arms and legs entwined. Sharing soft kisses and gentle touches. Whispering sweet nothing in each others ears. This was time and space only for the them. No more history, only now and the future.

Mycroft's fingers traced each feature of Gregory's face. His eyes, down the side of his face. Across his cheek bones. A single finger sliding gently down his nose to trace his lips.

Gregory's breath came in short gasps at the feather light touch. His lips parted when the long digits traced down and under his chin. Ghosting over his Adam's apple and circling the hollow at the base of his throat. He kept his eyes closed to savor the feelings threatening to over whelm his senses.

He let out a loud gasp and arched when Mycroft's lips retraced the trail his fingers just followed. His hands tangled in the ginger hair. Not tugging or guiding, just holding on. Each kiss was followed with a humm or word of praise from the younger man. The eyes were "beautiful". The jaw was a decadent lick. A teasing kiss to the tip of his nose, "adorable". That earned the king a grunt from below and a giggle from the top.

A moan of frustration followed the brush of lips instead of a proper kiss. It was quickly replaced by a low moan when the king licked his was down his throat to suckle at the base.

"Mycorft." Gregory moaned in a deeper octave.

"Hmm?" he replied with out removing his lips from there sensual exploration.

"Love me." was the quiet plea.

"Always."

Gregory giggled softly. Mycroft smiled. He knew how to tease. He placed a tender kiss on the parted lips of his lover. The tongues joining in an erotic play of love and passion.

"Let me worship you, darling. Like you deserve. Let me give you pleasure." Mycroft breathed into his lover's mouth.

Gregory tried to protest. He was usually the one giving the pleasure. Being in control. Mycroft captured his lips for another kiss. "Please.

Gregory let out a tiny whimper and nodded.

A last kiss and Mycroft knelt over the smaller man. He sat back so that their manhoods were nestled together. He ran his hands up the plains of a slightly softening stomach to cares a furry chest. He traced his finger around each nipple. Watching them swell to hard little nubs. He lightly caress them, pinched them. He covered each one with his lips. Suckled them. Licked them. Loving the soft gasps and moans his lover was making.

The king sat up. He ran his hands over Gregory's shoulders and down his arms. Lacing their fingers and bring them to his lips for gentle kisses. He placed his hands over the silver head and shifted down toward his feet. The long fingers stoking down the thickly furred legs. Skimming up to rest on muscular thighs. Feeling the muscles twitching from desire.

"Mycroft. Please."

"Please, what?"

"I need you to touch me."

Mycroft's face softened. He took their jar of creme from under the pillows and slicked up his hands. "Touch you? Like this?" he asked gripping Gregory's cock in a firm grip and dragging his hand to the base. Tickling his balls with a little finger.

"Ah. Yes. Please." Gregory moaned, thrusting up for more friction.

A self satisfied grin spread across the kings face as he stroked his lovers cock. Hand over hand in a firm, sure grip. Occasionally twisting a hand on an up stroke or giving an extra squeeze to the glans.

Gregory's breath came faster, his hips thrusting into the soft hands. "I'm close. Please, Stop!" he cried, putting a hand on top of his lovers.

Mycroft stopped and let his love catch his breath. He also needed a moment to rest his aching member. It took all his control not to rut against the other man. Gregory's flushed skin glistening with a fine sheen of seat. His head pressing to the pillow as he pleasure was building. But it was the sounds that nearly undid him. The breathy moans and soft gasps.

While Gregory was edging back from the brink, Mycroft slicked up his fingers to prepare his lover.

"Are you ready, my love?" Mycroft asked, teasing his entrance.

"Yes. Hurry. I want you. Need you, Mycroft."

Mycroft kissed his lover while stretching his hole. Swallowing the whimpers of discomfort. At last he was able to sink into Gregory's body. Connecting them as close together as two people could be.

He thrust slowly into his lover's body. Sharing lazy kisses as he worshiped Gregory with his body. The pace stayed slow and quiet. Showing how much they loved each other in the most primal way. The only sounds were the popping of the fire and quiet breaths. When their peaks came, it wasn't in loud moans or yells, but in calling reverently each other's names. 

This wasn't fucking. It was making love. When it was over they held each other and slept with the peace only soulmates can know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this makes up for all the angst. Did everyone's questions get answered? Let me know your thoughts. There should only be one more chapter. Let's bring all the love birds together and wrap up some lose ends. More fluff. White, poufy, bunny fluff. Take your allergy pills, fluff. See ya all in the next chapter. Hugs my darlings. DD


	26. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king reveals some of his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll finally find out why Mycroft brought his brother home. I'm thinking of adding an Epilogue for our other boys. I would also like to continue the story, from the Baker Hall perspective. I would really like to have a beta for that one. Any one interested? I'm willing to trade. Beta work for beta work.

"I'm glad you decided to join me, brother." 

"You didn't leave me a choice. Really, Mycroft. Sending John to the garrison to 'assist' in training." whined the prince.

"You wouldn't have come if I hadn't give you an - incentive." the king replied drolly.

"Good morning, love." said Gregory coming into the common room. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's shoulders, leaning over to give him a kiss on his cheek.

Mycroft pulled the smaller man around to sit on his lap, causing him to giggle.

"Oh, God. Do you really need to do that? Now?" Sherlock asked disgusted.

Gregory place a chaste kiss on his lovers lops and stood up. "I have duties to attend to. I shall see you at dinner." Turning to address his soon to be brother-in-law "Sherlock." Smiling to himself at the shocked expression on the young man's face. He left the brothers to their conversation.

"I gather congratulations are in order? I don't know how even you are achieving that."

"My dear brother. It is a very old law. If you paid more attention to your lessons, you might have remembered." answered the king

"How are going to produce and heir? I hope you don't expect me..." Sherlock asked in a panic.

"There are ways, as you well know." interrupted Mycroft. "But that is not why I wanted to speak with you."

Sherlock didn't speak. He just glared at his brother. Arms folded across his chest. He was supposed to still be in bed with his knight. He was furious with the Preceptor's apprentice, Moriarty, interrupted them to tell John his presence was required at the garrison immediately. Sherlock knew it was a ploy to get him to meet with his brother. He tried to get John to ignore the summons, but he was to well trained to disobey a direct command. Though he did promise another round of bed sport upon his return. So it was in the princes best interest to mind his manners and get his audience over with as quick as possible. 

"I wanted to hear about your little adventure at the village. I see you came back with a souvenir." commented the king gesturing in reference to the bandage on his brother's neck.

"I was overly hasty in my grooming. Nothing to be concerned with." was his reply. Sherlock was fully aware that his brother knew how he had come by the wound. He just wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of the truth.

"Fortunately for you, our Sir John is well versed in the healing arts. Almost as good as my personal physician."

"Yes. John is very good at what he does." smiled the young man.

"So tell me, how did you resolve the ghost situation at the "Quacking Duck"?"

"Do we really need to play this game, brother mine? I also have business to attend to." asked Sherlock with a bit of impatience.

Mycroft knew exactly what 'business' his brother was referring to and with whom.

"Game?" Mycroft feigned confusion.

The prince just rolled his eyes, "I met the men who were supposedly 'frightened to death'. They were alive and hale at the undertaker's cottage. I suppose I should thank your for providing a bit of entertainment. It did lead to some enlightening discoveries." He smiled at all the wonderful discoveries he had last eve.

Mycroft smirked. Despite his own turmoil yesterday, he was still informed of his brothers actions.

"You are welcome. Though I was a bit surprised to hear that Anderson was reported dead. Wolf attack it seems. When his wife was informed, she didn't seem upset. Almost releaved."

"The man was an arse and a fool. She is better off with out him." Sherlock spat.

"You as well, I imagine?" Mycroft hints.

"What are you implying, brother?"

"Nothing. He was just one of your greatest tormentors. I should think you would be please to know he received his comeuppance, that is all."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and thought. That must be why his brother arranged for this particular mystery. To give him the opportunity for revenge. He had thought he was above such petty emotions. It had felt good to be able to mock Anderson in front of his peers. Humiliate him as he had done to him all those years ago.

"Is that why you summoned me back? So I could have revenge?" the prince asked.

"It was one of the reasons, yes." answered the king.

"And the others?"

Mycroft fortified himself with a deep breath. Trying to decide on the best approach. He needed to apologize for his actions when they were lads but was unsure if his brother would believe he was sincere. He also needed his help in stopping a possible coup. There were still large pockets of supporters of there father. His spies had been hinting these factions were wanting to bring back the old regime. 

"I owe you an apology, Sherlock."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I treated you very badly when we were lads. I wanted to make sure that father believed I was loyal to him. Then I would be in a position to keep you safe as well as help others."

Sherlock sneered at the confession. He remembered the cruel taunts. The bullying. "You hated every minute of my torment, I'm sure. You were one of the loudest to scream heretic . That isn't 'help', brother."

Mycroft came to kneel in front of his brother's chair. "Sherlock. I'm sorry. I had no choice. Father never fully trusted me. I had to keep up the charade for both our sake. I brought you home as soon as it was safe to do so. So I could try to make amends."

The young man was stunned. His brother, the King, kneeling before him. Asking for forgiveness. This has to be some sort of trick.

"Sherlock. Brother. There is no trickery here. I truly wanted you home."

"That's all? Just for brotherly affection?"

Mycroft bowed his head. "No. There is another reason."

"I knew it." Sherlock pushed his brother out of the way as he stood up to pace. Mycroft resumed his spot in his chair and waited for the question.

"What other reason was there, brother mine?"

"Sir Knight, John Watson."

Sherlock stopped his pacing and whirled to face his brother. His heart beating faster.

"What do you mean?" he was beginning to panic now. Was everything with John a farce? His caring. His friendship. His love?

Mycroft saw all of this, despite the mask of anger his brother wore. He, himself felt the same panic at the thought of Gregory's betrayal.

"John is completely unaware of the real reason I wanted him here. His affections for you are genuine."

"What have you done, Mycroft." Sherlock asked again.

"Sir John was the best knight I had on the battle field. It was a great loss when he was injured. It wasn't his skill with a sword that made him so valuable, though he can hold his own in a fight if need be. He has an unassuming way about him. He is a healer of talent. He can calm the most agitated of warriors. He also has the uncanny ability to provide comfort with out embarrassment. When he was forced to retire, he lost his will for life. It was disconcerting to me."

"Brother? You are showing sentiment for some one other than your dear Gregory?" Sherlock stated in astonishment.

"Don't be so obtuse, brother. He wasn't just a knight. He is a friend. I asked him to be your mentor in the hopes that it would bring him back to the living. That he would be able to give you the calm and comfort that you need. It was my belief that you would be able to heal each other." the king utter the last sentence in barely a whisper.

The prince flopped back in his chair, dumbfounded. His mind struggled to understand what his brother was telling him. This was about emotions. Sentiment. His brother didn't do sentiment. He didn't do sentiment. He didn't know how. Then there is John. The way he puts up with his fits. His moods. He has always put himself second to his needs. John killed for him. He confessed his love for him. In return, he gave his love back. Love he didn't know he was capable of feeling. It was all because of John, and Mycroft was the one the brought them together. 

Sherlock frowned at that thought. Gods, he will never be allowed to forget it was his brother that gave him the greatest gift. His John. "I must see John." he announce, getting ready to bolt.

"Wait, Sherlock! There is more."

"More? More! What more can there be! A sister locked away in the tower?" 

"You can stop with the dramatics, brother dear." Mycroft replied calmly, hoping his brother didn't notice his slight tension at the last flippant comment. He tried to cover it by rising to stand before him.

"A bit of advice. Give your guards a code word. So they know if the should intervene or not. If you get my meaning." the king stated glancing at the bed chamber. "Gregory and I's is 'cake'. It has put a stop to some more embarrassing situations." 

"Oh, God." Sherlock choked out. Trying to erase the image of his brother and lover engaged in any situation that they would require a safe word. "I really need to see John." with that, the prince all but ran from the kings chambers. His brother's laughter echoing after him.

*****

That night the king and his Preceptor were snuggling in bed.

"Did you tell him the main reason you brought him back to the castle?" asked Gregory, playing with the wiry hair on his lover's chest.

Mycroft stared at the fire, mindlessly running his fingers through the silver mane. "No. It wasn't the right time. I'm sure he will figure it out on his own."

Gregory looked up in confusion. Mycroft went on. "I sent them to Baker Hall to reside. John's father was one of the most loyal knights our father had. I'm positive he is one of the usurpers."

"Do you think John is involved?" Gregory felt he had to ask even though he knew in his gut that he wasn't.

"No. John is completely loyal to the crown and hopelessly devoted to my brother."

Gregory laughed. "Aye, he is. I'd say Sherlock is just as devoted, if not more so, to his knight."

"I'm counting on it, Gregory."

Mycroft rolled on top of his lover. "No more talking tonight." he said in a quiet tone. Placing a kiss behind Gregory's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "However, those wonderful sounds you make while being pleasured are acceptable." He rolled his hips into the others, causing a soft groan to escaped his lips. "Like that." he whispered right before he captured Gregory's lips with his for a soul searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has read my story. Left comments or kudos. You don't know how those totally make my day. I love hearing from you, so don't be a stranger.
> 
> I will sweetly request again for a beta reader for a possible sequel. I am also wanting to edit, rework this story, so any feedback is greatly appreciated. I would love to have it beta'd as well.
> 
> Hugs and air kisses to you all. -DD


	27. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are at Baker Hall

John and Sherlock sat in the lords chambers in companionable silence. It had been just over a fortnight since they moved to Baker Hall. Mycroft felt it was time for John to resume his duties at home and Sherlock refused to stay at the castle without his knight. So, with Mycroft's blessing and warning to mind his manners, the prince was allowed to leave the castle.

Before the men left, the king pulled his brother aside. "Brother, always have your eyes and ears open and please, keep your wits about you. There are men out there that would see you dead."

"You worry over much, brother. I have John." the prince said with an almost flippant shrug.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said with concern. Placing his hand on the slim shoulder. "Please, be careful. If not for yourself or even I, think of Sir John. You have given each other a purpose. The absence of you or the other and the purpose is lost."

Sherlock gazed thoughtfully at his brother. "I will, Mycroft. I give you my word." He clapped his brother on the shoulder.

The moment was broke when John rode up to the bothers. "M'Lords. I beg your pardons. If the Prince and I are to make Baker Hall before nightfall, we need to leave now."

The king stepped back to allow his brother to mount his horse. The men nodded their farewells as they took off. The king remained on the steps till they were gone from sight. It wasn't until the dust settled that he turned to go inside.

Sherlock thought a lot about that day. Mycroft's behavior was disconcerting. Sentiment caused to much pain. It was better to avoid all matters of the heart. Mycroft had taught him that. It was Gregory's fault for the change. He smiled indulgently at the thought, gazing fondly at the man sitting across from him. After all, if it hadn't been for sentiment, John would not be in his life.

John looked up from the book he had been reading. He was on of the few nobles that could read and cipher. Just another reason that Sherlock was enamored with him.

"What is it, love?" John asked. He could always feel Sherlock's eyes upon him.

"Nothing. Just thinking about something Mycroft said the day we left."

"What was it?" John prompted, knowing it must be important for his lover to be pondering it two weeks later.

"He said to keep my eyes and ears open. Tried to disguise it as concern for my well being."

"Why would that be worrisome? He has a right to be concerned due to the lack of guards here."

"He knows that I have you to take care of me."

John gave the prince a look that suggested that his skill alone wasn't enough.

"Don't look at me so. We both know you are more than capable to 'defending my honour'." Sherlock purposefully dropped his voice into the dark baritone, knowing the effect it had on his lover.

"You are a cruel man, Highness." John jested, shifting in his chair to ease his growing arousal. 

Sherlock smirked but continued with the original conversation. "My brother would have phrased his concern differently. There is something else going on. Most likely a threat to the crown."

"What does he think you would find here? Baker Hall is quiet. The only one who doesn't fully support the king is my father. He's to old and feeble minded to be of any concern." John replied.

"I'm not so certain that your father is as addled minded as he lets on, John."

John looked incredulously at the young man. "Are you seriously considering that my father is part of some plot to over throw the crown? That surly old arse?"

Sherlock 'hmmmed', not committing to an answer. His knight was used to his lack of comments. Besides, there was a more pressing matter that needed his attention. He sank from his chair to kneel at John's feet. His restlessness did not escape the princes notice.

His hands slid under the hem of John's robe to rub their way up the furry legs. Stopping at the bottom of his thighs to knead the muscles. Johns breath grew shallow watching his lovers face. The fire enhancing the passion in his eyes and the teasing smile playing about his lips. He left his hands on the arms of the chair, basking in the feelings Sherlock aroused in him.

The princes hands glided back down. He laid his head and a hand upon his knight's knee. The other hand absently tracing patterns along his lower leg. The tenderness of the moment made John's heart swell with love. They remained quiet, listening to each other's breaths. The soft pops from the fire. John finally yielded and allowed himself to play with the curly locks in his lap. The moment shifted once the curly head begun to nuzzle the erection that was still present. A clever hand parted his robe. Fingers tightened in curls while a bit off moan escaped from the fair headed one.

It didn't take much for Sherlock to find what he wanted. He shifted to his knees to get a better look at his lover's cock. It grew longer and harder under the scrutiny of his blue eyes. He licked his lips.

The sight of the plump, wet lips about to engulf his prick was too erotic not to let out a low moan. "Sherlock." John panted.

That was all the encouragement needed. With a sudden swiftness, Sherlock dropped his head and took John's prick into the hot, moist cavern of his mouth. He slowly drew back up until only the tip was still surrounded by his lips. The smaller man gasped loudly and tried to thrust his hips up, only to be stopped by strong hands holding him in place.

"Oh, God. That feels so good." 

Sherlock smiled and swirled his tongue around. Teasing the tip to produce more of John's delicious liquid. Without any preamble, he slide his lips all the way to the root. Inhaling the muskiness and scent that was pure John. He continued with the the slow drag of lips up and down the shaft. 

John watched him from under hooded eyes. "Sherlock. My Beauty. That is the most erotic thing I've seen. Your swollen lips stretched around my cock." 

The young man doubled his efforts from the praise. Adding a lick or a graze of teeth. The pleasure ran hot through his knight's veins. John threw his head back and let out a groan of bliss. His hands tightening his curls. 

"More. I..." he gasped when Sherlock's tongue began to lap at the glans standing proud from the foreskin, dripping with clear liquid that he couldn't get enough of.

The prince hummed as he took John's length in a firm suction, making the older man thrust his hips up into the hot cavern. "More, Please." he begged, thrusting in earnest.

Sherlock let him take his mouth as he needed. Applied suction and licks when he could. The sounds falling from his lover's mouth spurred his own desire. He wrapped his hand around his own aching cock and stroked it in time to John's movements.

It only took another five or six thrusts before John was grasping on to Sherlock's curls, shouting his name as he released into his lover's mouth. Sherlock drinking down every drop. He only needed a few more pulls before he too, was coming with a loud groan.

"Thank the gods we gave the guards a safe word." John chuckled as he tried to catch his breath.

Sherlock giggled. "After the fourth time of being interrupted, it seemed prudent to take my brother's suggestion. I thought 'Anderson' was a brilliant idea."

John batted the dark head affectionately. "Biscuits, made more sense. Less chance of a mishap." 

Sherlock just pressed his lips in a moue. John couldn't resist the offer and pulled him up for a tender kiss. Enjoying the taste of himself on his lover lips. He then took his lover's seed coated hand and proceed to lick up every drop until it was clean.

Sherlock closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He captured John's lips to he could indulge in their mingled tastes. The kiss was short and full of love.

*****

Sherlock woke before John. The smaller man was curled around him this morn. He gently stroked the blond locks and kissed his brow. Tightening his arms for a hug. John let out a sleepy moan and snuggled in closer, making Sherlock smile. As he gazed looked at the man he loved and who loved him, he realized that he was truly happy. For the first time since he was a child, he was happy. He had finally come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6:31 pm. It is done. Many thanks to everyone who supported this endeavor. I still need a beta to for my rewrite. The boys want more of their budding relationship told and Mycroft and Greg would like to share more of their story as well. I still have ideas for a sequel if any one is interested. A beta would be greatly appreciated for that as well. I'm not really sure where else to go to request one.
> 
> Anywhos. Thank you again for the love and support. As always, comments, suggestions, praise (I have a bit of a kink, like someone we know.:)) are always appreciated and taken into consideration. 
> 
> Love to you all. -DD


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